Hello Loves,
I’m in the writing zone.
My repetitive but flowy morning routine involves journaling then meditation, yoga or dancing like a freak in my living room, making toast and tea, posting affirmational quotes on social media, and pulling tarot cards for the day. These rituals help me feel happy, healthy, and clear – which helps me connect to the source of my creativity.
I settle into my chair at my desk. Above me, on the wall, are two shelves stacked full of my favorite books by my favorite authors. I smile at them and remember the pleasure I had while reading, and know that someday, my writing will be among them. Below this is a narrow shelf with a bronze statue of the Hindu God Ganesh – the giver of wisdom and the remover of obstacles, a selenite crystal that repels negative energy and creates peace, calm, and mental clarity, and hand-written quotes by Audre Lorde and Maya Angelou.
I need all the help I can get. This shit isn’t easy.
I have one completed book under my belt. It’s hard to explain the feelings of ecstasy and relief when you’ve accomplished a task of that magnitude, but think of child labor when the baby’s head is crowning and it feels like you can’t be stretched any further, and that the pain will last all of eternity, but then a miracle happens and you have a beautiful baby. It’s exactly like that. I know – I’ve done both.
I’m 13,000 words into my second book. Phew. I’d semi-forgotten the torture it is to remember and write about a difficult past. And I mean DIFFICULT. I can sit here peacefully for hours writing about treachery and betrayal and cruelty and lies and patriarchy and systems of injustice, and then WHAM, one specific thing touches my core, and I’m shaking and crying into my hands as though this past is presently happening. Post traumatic stress.
The body keeps the score says Bessel Van Der Kolk and they are right. Eckhart Tolle talks about the “pain body” as an accumulation of stress, negativity, fear, and old emotional wounds that affect our health and sense of well-being. And Byron Katie asks over and over again – Is it true? Can you absolutely know that it’s true? How do you react when you believe that thought? Who would you be without that thought?
Since I know the only way out is through, I let the feelings come up, and I cry and cry and sob and sob for as long as it takes to release this old junk from my body, mind, and heart. Then it’s back to it.
May my writing continue to heal me. And may it heal you too.
-In Sisterhood
