[aux_dropcap style=”classic”]W[/aux_dropcap]ords, dearie, have always been your beloved poison, but let’s face it, your relationship with them often bent more erratic than intoxicating. Sometimes they haul more heartache than euphoria. Translating the tangled threads of thoughts and emotions into words and untying the knotted knots of your mind often proves challenging.
The jumbled jags of understanding and communicating remain your continuous and perplexing effort. But writing and language provide potent ways to wrap your head—and arms—around your insecurities, adopt ambiguity, and see the world—and yourself—through a more transparent lens.
Once upon a time, you were a great many things, including a daydreamer and an aspiring storyteller.
Your passion for stories was kindled during your school days when you unapologetically filled page after page and notebook after notebook with whimsical narratives about your friends and famous figures. As you matured, you tried to sharpen your writing abilities by transforming your favorite texts. You cast yourself in the lead role—an attempt to give yourself a more thrilling and adventurous life—to present yourself (if only to your eyes) as witty, intelligent, and charming. And to learn the intricacies of crafting meaning through word choice, order, and structure.
You wrote about the moments that moved you, the affairs that formed you, and the puzzles that befuddled you. You exposed your anxieties, your desires, and your dreams. Yet, despite your efforts to craft a mask of wit, elegance, and intelligence, the wraith of judgment loomed large.
There transpired times when the words wouldn’t flow, and your self-doubt crept in. Times when you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were pretending to know more than you actually knew and that you would be found out. Times when you feared your mask would slip and your charade would collapse all around you, leaving you stuttering and stammering, alone amidst the vast ashy, demolished stage.
You recall that moment at a previous workplace, a new exciting job, where you were eager to prove your ability. In that situation, you stumbled on an apology to a stranger for not adequately explaining something during your training. You may not remember the nuances of that miscommunication, but you vividly remember that in a sincere attempt to express your remorse, you foolishly employed the term “articulate.” It still haunts you how your well-intended words were met with unexpected spiteful derision from the customer, who abruptly cut you off and chided you for using such a word—one that made you sound “smart.”
[aux_quote type=”pullquote-normal” text_align=”left” quote_symbol=”1″ float=””]That stranger’s scalding riposte made it all too clear that you were less than articulate, a fraud, a charlatan posing as someone clever and well-spoken..[/aux_quote]
You were confronted with the validity you had long suspected at that humbling junction. That stranger’s scalding riposte made it all too clear that you were less than articulate, a fraud, a charlatan posing as someone clever and well-spoken. You sat there silent, stupid, and humiliated, your inadequacies on full display: bare and exposed. The experience existed long after as an unyielding scar of the ways you always fell short.
So You’ve not been brave. Instead, You’ve been messy and uncertain…and confused. You often find hiding or running away easier than facing fears. As such, You’ve tried to live non-confrontationally. But lately, You’ve resumed writing for your blog and portfolio with aspirations of plumbing into your mind’s depths and extracting at least a little insight from life’s…crappy moments.
You’re acutely aware of your writing limitations. You often become unceasingly swept up and tossed about your dizzying dervish of thoughts, unable to free yourself from their persistent current. This week was no different.
The muse abandoned you, sweety. Your words deserted you, leaving you a babbling mess. You now struggle to string together a simple sentence. The letters seem to dance before your eyes, mocking your attempts to form coherent thoughts. Your once fluid prose feels like molasses, slow and sticky, refusing to flow. Your keyboard taunts you with its silence as you sit there, lost…again.
You’ve become a mere shadow of your former self, a writer unable to write. And you’re left again feeling like a fraud, an imposter, pretending to be someone you’re not.
You won’t give up, though. You’ll dust yourself off and keep trying, even if it means starting over or turning around a hundred times. You’ll chase down your words one by one until you’ve captured them all. You’ll keep searching for that spell that weaves your words into gold, and you’ll keep putting one foot in front of the other, even if you’re stumbling along the way. That could be what it means to be a writer – to never give up, never surrender, and always keep forging forward, never in a straight line, despite roadblocks and writer’s block!
At times, it all feels like a lie. You wish you knew how to make it feel less like that. You really do. You realize that the world is complex, and any answers may be ineffable. Still, at least writing enables you to confront challenges, embrace uncertainty, and build a measure of courage.
So, dear reader, if you are fumbling along, take comfort that you’re not alone. Words can be powerful tools to examine the world and yourself. Keep exploring, and try not to beat yourself up too much. The answers may not always be obvious, but that’s okay. The pursuit of enlightenment may be as messy as it is magnificent.
Signed,
Me
