Sometimes I just need to write. sometimes I just need to get out of my head and get things on paper. The swirling madness that engulfs me mentally causes this spinning sensation that keeps me from being able to do anything. My thoughts get jumbled, my emotions rage, my clarity fogs, and my world goes into neutral…
with that awful grinding noise that is made when shifting gears and you don’t quite push the clutch in enough.
This happens to me a lot it seems.
Not sure what the triggers are. Sure would be nice to know though. Not that I could avoid them, but.. at least know that I was dangerously close to slipping into the whirlwind again.
Frustration, confusion, desire, passion, anger, rage, ideas, concepts…
At the same time. Trying to all make it out at once. There just isn’t enough room for it all to fit.
I look at the keyboard and just…
Cry? Not physically. No tears or anything like that.
But I hate the keyboard or the pencil or the tool that I currently am using to try to get my thoughts out.
All because I can’t.
All because something has me mentally or emotionally constipated. (great visual, right?)
There is a lot of screaming during this part. It’s mostly internal. Every now and again it seeps out and I explode onto someone I care about. Sometimes, just the opposite happens. I shut down. Bar myself in behind a wall of ice. I get quiet. Sullen.
The blank page mocking me the entire time.
Coloring in my coloring books helps. I tell people that it’s to relieve my stress. There is some truth in that. Some. But mostly, there is this sense that I can accomplish something. Simple. Easy. Focused.
I revert to some of my childlike (not childish.. big difference) qualities. Not really sure what they are, but.. it has something to do with cartoons sometimes.
Eventually, I relax enough. The writing returns.
Or… I go in the exact opposite direction.
I put my fingers to the keys and just start pressing them. Forming words without thought. That’s how this whole thing started. No idea where I was going, no concept or idea to write about. Just.. dumping. If you have followed me for any length of time, I tend to do this every now and again.
Maybe it’s cathartic. Maybe it’s not.
But just feeling like I wrote something… anything… brings a bit of peace into my mind and calms the storm just enough to let me breath. I like that.. the raging storm.. think I’ll name this post that.
And if you are curious… yes, the storm is still raging. The clouds are dark grey, the seas are tumultuous (I really like that word), and the rain is coming down in sheets, highlighted by the thunder that rolls across the waves and illuminated by the lighting dancing in the sky.
But.. at the moment, I can see the sun breaking through a small opening. Respite.
For at least a few minutes.