While taking a mini-break from the WIP, I kept writing daily, filling (so far) two 70 page notebooks. Personal journaling was the first kind of expressive writing I tried, and exploring my place in the world has always been a huge part of why I love to write. Writing doesn’t just allow me to vent, it also teaches me stuff.
I’m in this earth school to learn, and the best way I know how to do this is by writing out the lessons. In poetry, in stories, and sometimes, in concentrated programs designed to heal the body, clear the mind and soothe the soul.
In late December, my back started bothering me. In late January, as it got progressively worse, I finally went to the doctor. The news was not good, looks like its permanent damage to a disk, but my writing program (along with my doctor’s advice) helped me zero in on what I need to change to lift the physical pain. What and also HOW. Amazingly, I’m clearing away ingrained habits to make way for better alternatives.
Change is so difficult for me. Particularly when I’m in physical pain, I tend to want to curl up and go into a sugar coma while watching back to back episodes of The Good Wife. But with this new writing commitment, making physical changes in the way I cope with pain is just one part of my evolution. I’m also getting emotional and spiritual support and guidance.
Every time I decide to do some deep personal work, I’m amazed at how much junk my ego throws in my way every single day that I just usually don’t even recognize. This time is no exception, and none of it would be happening without the writing, which is not meant to ever be seen by anyone but me.
What a reversal in attitude from my usual “need to get this novel published” mentality.
Sure, publication would be nice. It would be great to win a contest, snag an agent, find an editor who loves my work. But even without all those worldly rewards, I am just so happy to be writing. It heals my life, inside and out, every single day.