the edges of myself

words, words, words

I’ve spent years dancing around my writing practice. I’ve moved in fits and spurts through months of writing and months of silence. I’ve paid tribute sporadically to the scurrying stories in my head, and done my best to be nice to myself when I’ve kept those stories caged. I have made declaratives in hopes of coaxing myself into my practice, created unrealistic structures that I’ve been unable to maintain. I’ve set myself up for failure countless times only to fall down, lick my wounds and eventually come back with a new resolve. 

It’s safe to say I don’t know what I’m doing or how to carry forward in terms of my writing. I simply know that there is a continuous narrative in my head that begs to be voiced. My stories are relentless, like monsters locked in the basement who refuse to be silent. Despite the myriad of distractions I like to throw in my path (yes, I have been called the Queen of Distraction), ultimately I always end up cracking the basement door and coaxing the monsters into the light. 

Once they’re out of the basement I realize they’re not even scary, just shy and misunderstood. And the energy I’ve been expending to keep them in the dark is so much more than what it takes to shine a light on them. When I don’t write, my words don’t disappear, they burrow down deep to fester and rot. I shove them into my internal darkness and then I manage to convince myself that there’s actually no such thing as darkness, particularly inside of ME. But it’s a technique that is rapidly losing its effectiveness. And as I step more fully into the light I realize that I AM my stories, and shoving them into the darkness (yes, it’s real) keeps me there too. 

I will refrain from making a large declarative here (been there, done that) and simply say that I’m slowly placing one foot in front of the other. I’m breaking off bite-size pieces from my internal hoard so as not to choke on my own self-imposed structure. I am creating a gentle, forgiving practice of honoring my voice. I am acknowledging my imperfect journey as absolutely perfect. (how could it not be?) And I’m making friends with my monsters. Mostly, they just want a proper introduction. 

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