I used to write all the time, but the last few years I have gotten away from it. I don’t know why I’m feeling stagnant right now. I don’t have much energy and I take everything too seriously. My actions are not aligned with what I value. I’ve isolated myself over the years and I’ve developed social anxiety. I haven’t made a real friend since I moved to Arizona over three years ago. My husband is great, but as a 33 year old woman – I should have more relationships in my life. Anyways, I thought I’d write today to see what came out. The writing below is what I typed. I actually wrote that, and then came back and typed this little intro for some context.
I sit paralyzed, unsure why. Perhaps if I write I can get back to my heart. Somewhere along the line I decided it wasn’t worth fighting for. Afraid of what might be in store…for sure. Writing feels so tiring, and it feels like I’ve lost the necessary wiring. More content, and yet – spent. Unable to catch my breath, afraid of a slow death. Second guessing myself, afraid what it will mean to my health… Not sure why or who I am anymore. Just keep walking through the door – fall through the floor. Can’t quite type what I’m thinking, what’s flowing feels like swimming. My brain is foggy and deep, sometimes I can’t sleep. Thoughts float in and out, can’t quite figure out what they are about. Like grasping at straws, the words move my jaw, but my brain can’t process…I’m lost and I’m nauseous. Which way through the door? One foot, then one more. Cloudy and murky waters beneath me, floating and gliding, but not smoothly. Word association, peeking at elation. Then back down to the ground…type what I’m thinking, judging but not bleeding. Back pedal and misstep. Not sure, can’t quite guess. Waiting for the day when it all makes sense, when it’s clear why I’m here…why I have so much fear. Like I missed out on my path, afraid to be seen or taken out of my depth. Don’t want to be made a fool, or make a scene, be told I’m obscene and sent back again to some place to never again be seen. Do you know what I mean? You’re afraid that I’m sad, and I can’t say that I am, and yet – I can’t say that I’m not. What’s happened to my spirit over the years? Quite a lot. Lost and confused, where am I and am I amused? Perhaps I’ve been abused. Afraid to step out, don’t want to get too close to anyone or anything, afraid of relationships and what they mean. I cling. I dart. I hide in the dark. No windows, no light. Just me and my thoughts. Together again, we’re friends til the end. No one knows how deep the well goes, down and down I go…deep into the abyss of my mind. I play here all the time. Like an old woman on a porch, I sit and stare. Not sure what I’m thinking or where I’m looking, and yet I am fine. I am content. Staring at walls and thinking about it all.