I used to write. Seriously write...quite a lot. It was therapeutic on so many levels. I mean, I carried a journal with me every where for Pete's sake! There was even a time when I posted to this very same blog on a semi regular basis.
Then I stopped...writing, that is. Naturally the blog went by the wayside as well. Friends asked when I would return to my former habits and give them glimpses into my random thoughts once more.
I had no answer.
There were a few brief attempts to start the flow of thoughts. Upon reading what I had written, the words seemed stilted and lacking. So...I put away the journal...closed the laptop...quit purchasing the "perfect' pen or pencil. It was if I had nothing of substance to say. That thought bothered me only slightly and I attributed the lack of words to my entering a different stage in my life.
I discovered I enjoyed drawing and began to experiment with using my artwork to express what I was feeling. It was fun! And it still is...I am even able to slightly supplement my income by selling some of my pieces. Time for a shameless plug...visit my FB page, Whimsy by Nsquared.
Lately, I've felt the urge to put pen to paper if for no other reason than to marshal thoughts and emotions into some logical order. The world has become a chaotic mess of sound bytes, self righteous opinions and judgmental indignation...and it makes me feel two things, anger and disgust.
I'm disgusted with the behavior of others and disgusted with my inability to put into calm, rational words the thoughts and feelings racing through my head and heart. I felt myself being pulled back to a point in my life I never wanted to revisit...a time when I was angry and unhappy but unable to acknowledge that these emotions were the well springs of my misery. Like so many I chose, at that time, to put on the persona of calm contentment...unwilling to admit my failure to be the "perfect" wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend...the list goes on. But I am not that person anymore.
Now, I've accepted my imperfections and am no longer consumed by a hidden anger. My happiness is, well, my choice. But because of the chaos I glimpse in the world...and the emotions, the thoughts triggered by what I see and hear and experience...perhaps I need the therapy of writing once more. Perhaps if I return to the written word I can resolve those troubling feelings. Maybe with my words I'll be able to share a more positive outlook with anyone who happens to stumble across my blog.
Despite all the negativity filling newsfeeds and broadcasts and watercooler gossip, I still choose happiness.