Thursday, August 27, 2009

And So I Write...

Mike and I are on a journey. Together. It was always a trial for us to stay together, but it was also inevitable. We are bound to each other by intuitive threads, and conventionally with love and friendship. My ideals of the perfect partner in my lifetime was mainly someone who would be able to understand what I was thinking without really saying anything out loud. A bizarre notion that I wanted a mind reader, when just the opposite was true. I needed someone who didn't speak much, who would then draw from me, MY words and thoughts. One who would frustrate me because he could not put into words what I was feeling. But it occurred to me some time ago that what I needed was to speak what I was feeling.

I used to write. When I was younger, thoughts flowed from my mind to my hand to the paper. It was nearly effortless. But I wouldn't show anyone either. It was because I couldn't speak. When I realized that I was only speaking through my writing, I decided to change. It was painful and my ego was shocked that I would do such a drastic thing like taking it outside of it's perfect shell in my head where I was always right. But catharsis begins when you know something is wrong and that something needs to be purged. [As an aside, I want to thank Lori Bell W. for making me remember that I was a writer even though I've always known it.]

And then I met myFriendHolly. And I dubbed her Abbie, both for being "abnormal" and for being there to hear me and work things out of my head and into reality - like Dear Abby (very popular with me at the time). Together we shared and understood what we had each been going through - in a manner of speaking (no pun intended) - that our family lives were distorted but not uncommon. That we were tortured, but it was only our thoughts which twisted things because in the end, what we did together was the most powerful and cathartic of all - we wrestled on neighbors' front lawns. We waited to be hosed down like animals and hoped that no such action would be taken. But the best purge was the laughter in the face of the growing pains that felt like a heavy meal grounding our levity at a perpetual dinner party with an ever-present, ever-vacant, robotic group of people. Our families.

Now, don't get me wrong.... I love my tangle of family. But I learned a long time ago, that what I was experiencing was only a mask of each person. We had love and we could finish each other's sentences, but we hardly ever spoke the truth apart from whether we liked something Mom served us or the weather or the recent ballgame. All true. All superficial. All masking the deep feelings we had for each other and our shared human condition.

So, I try to speak the truth by working out the thoughts in my head. The process is simple now, and I don't have to damage a part of me to deserve to do this one simple, loving act for myself. I have a thought. I speak the thought truthfully inside and gauge the feelings I emote. I try to understand the feelings and the thoughts and adjust it to the truth within. And then I speak it to those I trust will respond honestly - my touchstones in life (those who accept what I say without projected judgment). Biofeedback. My own version.

And so I write... I write to speak words reserved for my ego. I write to share my thoughts with more than only those whom I trust. I write to let it go, after things are in perspective.

I write because I am the only one who can speak for me.