Writing. My first post mentioned writing, but it turned into more about crying. This post I wanted to share more about why I feel called to writing.
I like to write to release my feelings. I like to express my emotions through it. I didn’t realize that until recently when I wasn’t doing it that I had kept it all inside. My throat always gets closed up when it is my turn to speak the truth about myself. Out loud. Yikes! I can slow it down at that moment and can clearly see the panic that it holds to say what I really want. I stop myself because I fear what their opinion will be. I have said my truth and it feels good to get it off my chest, but then the criticisms start. The questioning on why do you want to do that? why can’t you just stay home? why aren’t you just happy taking care of your family? Why? Yes, why isn’t this all just good enough? You know why, because it’s not. I want the MORE.
I have a big personality. This is why the above paragraph will not make sense to some. I do speak my peace at times. I am the caller of bullshit. If you are going to tell some story I have this innate ability to see the truth of your words that you aren’t saying or the ones that you are trying to make less. I will say it especially if I feel urged to do so, and I would mean that as in a higher power has shouted at me to say it to you. I will hear your pain muffled behind your answer of, “fine”. I will hear your soul calling out your higher purpose that isn’t easily seen because of the walls our human self has created. I can see when you are hiding yourself from anyone seeing the real you. Your human self tells me another story and I sometimes, but not always speak up to tell you what your soulful voice has said instead. I have written poems for others on a whim because the words came so easily connected with that person. It is how writing is tied into who I am. It is a way for me to express my own thoughts and it seems yours as well.
You are all divine creatures. Your purpose is bigger then the bills you pay, or the car you drive. It is so much more that even I have lost sight of it. My purpose at this time is my biggest weakness. I am hiding behind my human self and not speaking my truth. I hear yours so clearly, but I disregard my own. It is time to speak this truth, write it down and share. I am spinning free out of my tangled web that I have sadly weaved. I have to systematically move from this to my next step.
I am courage.
I have been given the same message….write. I heard it from my friends. I heard it from an angel card reading and in meditation. It was the same every time, what are you waiting for, write? It got more intense after I had stopped blogging. I promised this blog to be the truth of my life. And so I stopped. It started getting real. I was doing a dance around the truth. I was hinting at my life, but felt fear to be honest with you about the real truth of who I am. But, now I have been given a twist in my life that makes telling the truth a release and not a burden.
I’m tough. I’m so tough that I barely ever cry, but when I do its to the strangest people. I cried on the phone talking to our insurance company today. I told the kind lady on the phone I wasn’t crying about my questions to her, but my tears had built up so much inside that now they were spilling out asking her to send a new password. I have kept my tears restricted in the confines around my heart. I stopped crying because I was yelled at for crying. “Quit your crying.” I realize now that is just them not wanting to show their emotions by telling me not to show mine. I cried and the kids would cry. I stopped and with that it stopped bothering everyone else with my tears. But, they were still there. They were constantly brimming up through the eyes and even in times of silence. I retreated farther into my sealed vault and I thought I was in control, but if I let nothing out I didn’t focus on that I let nothing in.
Now, as I think of all this while I type I cry now. I cry for all the times that I didn’t let it out. I cry for the times that I was told to quit and instead I should have started wailing as hard as I could. I should have cried so hard that gobs of snot and spit riddled the front of my shirt and everything in a 10 foot radius. I cry for the times that I was trying not to worry others about my tears. I cry at the thought that I missed out on the hugs from friends who would have let me cry and held me, grabbing me tissues, and asking me if I was ok. I cry for the times that I was hurt. I should have screamed and bellowed out my tears that everyone around me was uncomfortable and had to check in on their own emotions. I cry for when my mom was sick and didn’t know what to do or how to help her. I should have cried and screamed with her at the unfairness of getting sick and dying. I missed out on the reality of my situations and they were desensitized by my lack of emotions. Instead, I bottled it in.
It is time. A good cry is real. I want the snot. I want the puffy eyes. I want you to pass the tissues. I want you to still love me when I’m weak. I want you to hold me and just stay silent. I want to feel vulnerable. I want the fucking release. I want it out of my heart and soul. I want to lose the heaviness of it lingering. I want to be free.