I’m feeling a need –a pull – to journal, and to write in the easiest free-flowing form possible. A form in which no care is given to word etiquette, structure nor content. The aim is to let the pen be the conductor…..
“….There has been a growing sense of needing to write-it-out of late. And I don’t even know what ‘it’ is exactly, and possibly I don’t need to, for that shouldn’t constrict the flow of this exercise…
For no doubt it will come. Perhaps before I reach the end of this blank page even, for that is often the way?
There are emotions rising. Emotions which (as yet) have no name, or even attachment really, for if I even dig a little they simply seem to evaporate like vapour. They don’t want to be read, understood or figured out in this instance.
This (situation) often occurs when I am most depleted and exhausted. I can silence the mind and access only feelings in this space. The door to creativity often opens. And there certainly are feelings rising up – sadness, overwhelm, anxiety, fear, confusion, more confusion.
Actually, I’m pausing here to acknowledge these feelings for there are a few which I wasn’t even consciously aware were present until I started writing…. until I just wrote them.
And yet, even with their presence duly noted, they seem to sit alongside a powerful and innate knowing; that deeper than all of them put together, I feel a delicate, yet burgeoning soul strength, resilience, and even sprinkles of contentment present.
It’s all very …… complex.
Hence, back to the word of the day – *confusion*
By our very nature we are confusing absolutely, and often for this reason we never quite pull it all apart and truly reflect. Sometimes it isn’t even right to. But, perhaps the best space is to be open to the unfolding should it present. And initiate if it feels right.
For me the surface stuff (the raw emotion) feels harsh and jarring, and just really tough. My body and my brain are hurting and beyond exhausted. The soul is carrying me; I can feel it, and whilst I am somewhat in awe of its ability now, a part of me also fears sinking completely into this, because I want some confirmation that in doing so the body and mind will pick up.
Mmm interesting…. I hadn’t realised said fear.
I want a guarantee.
Gosh, I really do.
Because I need the 3 (of me) to be in harmony and flow, neither carrying the other, but a delicate and intricate dance occurring continually as they merge.
For the moment this isn’t occurring and I hold on to blind faith. But there is real fear.
Falling without a visible safety net is how it feels.
Although, this time feel very different too. Somehow. A sense of a new beginning this far in?
I wish I could cry. I haven’t done for some time. I think I am perhaps too tense and too within the storm for now. You can’t swim for your life and merrily float simultaneously. The last time the tears fell they were fuelled by a completely unrelated (and disproportionate) event. I don’t want that to happen again, I just want appropriate tears when they feel ready But, we cannot plan such things, and perhaps actually tears are not even right for now. And thats okay for I’ve learn’t to let go of expectation and roll with something higher. Either way, I can’t fake them, or force them; hence today I choose the pen and this sacred (and often resisted) act of release instead.
Because I still need to let it out, and maybe even work it out?
But it’s not about clarity in this instance, for even as I write I don’t feel any sense of un-ravelling happening? I don’t know yet know what I even really want to write about?
I surrender to the pen.
I trust it.
Often we think we need to name and decipher everything, but sometimes the magic happens when there is no sense of preparation at all. Perhaps it can simply be about emotions with no name? Just feelings, like the charged air which passes briefly between 2 moving cars. Yes, thats what I”m experiencing.
The first (and sometimes only step) is to acknowledge the sensation. Whatever It may be, and whatever title it may have.
As I sit here, in my vintage grey rocking chair, under the blue and white sky, and the warm lunchtime sun; my tanned limbs support this pretty diary upon which we chat….. and I am present. Totally and utterly present. Even as my right hand drifts back and forth, I am not all consumed by these words. I am fully conscious of ‘me’. My fingers swaying amongst the salty breeze which teases my long wet hair. I am solid. I am very real. In this moment.
And this is how it is. Life with chronic illness; solidity and fragility combined.
That is the truth. And I feel both. Constantly.
For this (new) homeopathic treatment path I have ventured on to, and this place I find myself residing, is as much in the thick of intensity as one can get. It is deep. I hear the call for courage loudly and I wonder if I am capable; whilst at the same time certain I must be?
I feel that I could fall at any second. I have done many times. And so far I’ve always caught myself, and got back up. But the call is almost too big. Thats what suddenly, actually, the emotions, are clearly telling me.
Reminding me truly how BIG this is. How long 21 years of sickness is. How much I’ve missed. Could still miss. I talked about the reality of FOMO a while ago but it’s more than missing the odd fun date, so so so much more. More than I can take in.
It is okay to recognise this as part of the path of going forward.
But more than the what if’s and the maybe’s, I am heavy with the simple weariness of being weary. Tired of being tired. Accepting that for ALL the work I’ve done the mountain top is nowhere near in sight.
Admitting that every explanation I give (to anyone) is beyond an understatement.
Interesting. Because, as I said, I wasn’t looking for clarity, but I’m getting quite a lot regardless.
This is exactly what needs releasing I suddenly comprehend.
This enormity…. because the call is almost too great. Too much. It all is.
This is my own enormous ladder, with so many steps, and so many opportunities to fall and hurt myself. So far to climb. Still. Steps so familiar yet still we meet over and over. New ones appearing between the old ones – adding to the never-ending hike.
This ladder so familiar, yet always changing. Still beautiful for sure, but my thighs sure do ache.
Yes, I appreciate the view, at every stage, but I am more than ready to meet everyone else on a level playing field now, and I crave the view up there at the top…..
Alas, I was wrong, the emotions did have a message after all and there was some un-tangling to be done.
It was only through writing-it-out I understood.
Ah yes, and there is the subtle shift which comes from a date with the diary. And yet nothing has changed, but I feel a little less tangled. Even though I am still very much in this.
Committed yet challenged. Always.
… And I’m still here in my body as I continue to write, still right here fully present in every movement, breathe, and cell as I witnessed the truth which arrived. I haven’t drifted off or got lost in my head, and for this reason I know I have grown. So much. My feet remain curled up beneath me as my hair dries gently and dances softly in the breeze. I even risk a smile.
Yes I am present.
Right here. Me, myself and I.
The 3 of us.
Mind, body and soul.
Dancing the dance of the weary together, even if one must support the other for a while. And if any answers have come it is only that I can trust the soul to be leant upon. If any certainty has strengthened it is simply that I am ready.
It all feels a little mystical the moment, but ultimately this feels huge because it is HUGE. And I am feeling that. In every single way, as I gently rock under the clouds.”
Do you write-it-out too? And does the clarify sometimes appear out of nowhere for you? I’m always in awe of the power of writing when I surrender to it. Always surprised by my initial resistance too. For this stuff works, and even when solutions cannot be found, the sense of release is valuable, as is the bonus of clarity. I would love to know how journalling works and looks for you?