|My Writer's Notebook - Front|
I didn't want to expose myself in such a way that would show how bad things have become--inside my head. I didn't want my writing to turn into how I have been feeling: burdensome and bothersome with squashed ideas and trampled hope.
The reason I haven't completely quit writing is because, even during my period of silence, I was forced to continue writing due to school and my ponderous nature. I just didn't share my writing with anyone except when necessary (school assignments). It pained me to write during that week. It evoked tears of the bitterest sadness. I ached, and still do some days, like Grief personified. Writing about how it felt is salt in my wound, even though it has been a month since I first entered my quiet place. Tears come so easily now.
|My Writer's Notebook - Back|
I admit to feeling blessed about how it worked out--now--because in the midst of the quiet, I gained something. I gained the knowledge that my writing makes a difference. It holds value for more people than just me. I received numerous messages of
concern and encouragement. Friends and strangers made a point of letting me know they want to hear what I have to say, that what I say matters to them. I guess, when one writes (and talks) as often as I do, people might get a bit caught off guard by silence. But what can not be assumed is the depth and breadth of the kindness shown to me in my period of muted existence. My heart overflows with gratitude for each person who offered words of support. Thank you for taking time to write, what I should have already known, onto my heart.
Writing anything proves difficult for me still, but my whole heart is invested now. Every word I write comes as a gift. I remember how many words are to be had because of the words given me by others.