Where I Talk About Writerly Things and Mental Health

Friday, August 17, 2012 7:42 PM

My surgery was on Wednesday and I'm happy to say that all is well.  It's only been a couple days and already I'm tired of laying down.  But lay down, I shall - eating, sleeping and healing.  I'm not supposed to be writing right now.  No, I should be studying.  That's next on my list of things to do, I swear. 

When you're a writer and you feel reflective, you should write.  Even if the words don't come to you immediately.  It's hard to concentrate on anything else until you do.  It's got to be one of the most frustrating things in the world to feel the arousal of expression and not be able to release it. 

It's like the man and I.  He's all verbal all the time, whereas I tend to stutter and get tongue tied.  Sometimes during crucial moments, I just can't find the words.  Probably because I'm overthinking what I want to say.  We speak different love languages and more than anything else, I don't want to be misunderstood.  Some things, I'm plain afraid to say out loud. 

I have feelings and I have words and sometimes they just don't come together.  And I don't want to be bothered with anyone or anything until they do.  I can't move past the things that swirl around in my head until I write them down.  Maybe if my mother had an outlet, she'd have been able to bridge the gap between her mind and the world.  But you have to want it.  What if she tried to find an outlet and just couldn't make a connection?  Could it be that choosing insanity, for her, was the easier choice? 

You don't have to answer that.  The way I see it, I can view my quirky nature as a blessing or a curse. And of course, I choose the former. I'll never lose myself, like she did, so long as I can write.  Channeling all of my imagination and confusion into my craft, I'll leave my insanity on the page.

Every creator painfully experiences the chasm between his inner vision and its ultimate expression. The chasm is never completely bridged. We all have the conviction, perhaps illusory, that we have much more to say than appears on the paper. 

~Isaac Bashevis Singer