Writing About Writing: When the Words are Lost

The last three months have been a glorious torture.

I want to write. I NEED to write.

But for the first time in my life I am overwhelmed by the immense impossibility of expressing what is inside. I come home from work, full of thoughts, fears, hopes, experiences, and like that twelve-year-old child unable to wield a paint brush to her own satisfaction, I stare at my fingers as they lie numb on the keyboard. I NEED to express all of what is inside – if I keep it there, it will destroy me. But the words won’t come.

I start to write, it feels like sweet release. But then.

The thoughts tangle. The feelings drown out the words. Like long strands of colorful thread that I cannot seem to isolate, my words become knotted and undistinguishable. A thought here, a feeling there. An anecdote that leads only to a loose end and a profound realization that turns back into the chaos with no resolution.

Writing for me was always the art form that allowed me to makes sense of everything. I could never seem to say all that I needed through painting, and drawing only seemed to stunt the progression of my thoughts. Music made me cry because I felt so much, and expressed so little. And dancing was simply never enough.

But writing!

With the words flowing from my heart through the filters of my questions, musings, and surprising conclusions, I captured the world! My mind cleared, my heart stilled, and the world became knowable; expressible.

And now, as I sit staring blankly at a vacant screen, my mind and heart raging but my fingers still, I wonder if I will have the stamina to push through this unexpectedly severe and profoundly painful setback. The colors and threads blur and run together forming a swirl of grey. A threatening cloud.

What if my last and most sacred form of self-expression is simply – gone?