Write what disturbs you, what you fear, what you have not been willing to speak about. Be willing to be split open. ---- Natalie Goldberg
This quote by Goldberg is like a rock plunked straight into deep water. The solid kerplop as every sound gets pulled through the momentum of the drop, the stone’s force pulling all the still water with it; my soul gets pulled into the momentum of this quote.
Her words hit harder than I want - than I am ready for. Write…what you fear, what you have not been willing to speak about. Each day I have an overwhelming compulsion to write - and when I stop to be honest with myself - the words I feel compelled to write about are the darker corners of my experience; my grief, my hurt, my continuation through it all, and in short - my journey.
If you intend to write as truthfully as you can, your days as a member of polite society are numbered --- Stephen King
Honesty. Truth. Acceptance. We all dance this waltz. We all spin in circles navigating our own truth and the perception of those around us. I run argumentative circles with myself as I resolve to write with courage and honesty, then succumb to my inner monologue who screams “Who in their right mind would want to read that?!”; convince myself that yes yes, you are right, whatever will they think; attempt to sidestep and bury the truths in a short story or fantasy as a guise, get defeated, and return to my depression.
When I left “the faith” I held no anger, there was no person or situation that caused my leaving. There was dawn on a new day and with the morning brought the simplest realization that I had been a fish struggling upstream my whole life - and I was exhausted. In nearly every area I was tucking and folding parts of myself to fit in here, and over there, and maybe here. The church only exasperated this - leaving me feeling like I was never tucking and folding enough - and I was never able to just be myself.
As time has moved along however I catch myself quietly & silently angry (yes yes, it’s taken me 7 years to finally feel the anger I should have felt all along) Angry at what was robbed from me; the opportunities, the missed connections, and the little me that could have been. Angry at the pile of shite I have to therapy myself through everyday because of that faith. I am grateful in the same breath as my anger - which is as awkward as it sounds - for the people, mentors, and opportunities I had along the way. These things kept me sane; kept me hanging on and giving another day a chance.
But my defeat always - always - comes at the hands of me not being true to myself. My sadness is deepest when I have tried to tuck and fold parts of me away. When I “left” it was the joyous freedom promised to me by a faith that never delivered.
My hesitation to write embodies so much emotion; from my past, my current path, and where I am heading. It’s a monstrous wrestle that is greater than just “writers block”. The road I walk is to discover and remove the illusions, fears, and misconceptions that my mind puts in my way preventing me from truly being free. Writing is a vessel - a muse - a connector of transparent disconnected dots.
What holds you back? Where are you fighting for your freedom literally and figuratively speaking?