The process of writing forces stillness. Forces thoughts to slow down. One by one. Word by word, they come. They are forced through the sieve of my synapses, as they are guided from my brain to my fingers.
I feel more at peace when I write. When I’ve been able to capture the feelings that have been plaguing me, to bind the thoughts that are racing through my head, I feel relieved when I press “Publish” and walk away.
Lately, I’ve gone back to the notebook and that is the same. The words on the page relieve the pressure in my head from all the thoughts. Senseless thoughts become a cohesive whole, even if it consists only of fragments, phrases, words.
For a while now, writing has been therapy, a processing, a getting rid of. Once written, it is out of my head and a decision has been made, or an insight gained.
I didn’t use words like this until a few years ago. I didn’t know I could. I didn’t know it could be a process.
Writing had always been structured, planned, pre-conceived. The conclusion was known before the writing started. The process seemed senseless. It made me hate myself.
That was writing as a business tool, as an educational tool, not as a thinking tool.
Now I know I can do both, but only one leads to clarity. Only one slows me down. Only one helps me see.
One is easy, the other hard. Both can be painstaking, as I fight for the right word to describe the thought, or work on sentence structure to convey the desired message and include the right keywords.
Words are always in my head. I often struggle to say them. A lot of the time, I really don’t know how. I need to stop and slow down and let them come one by one. That only works when you write them.
Or at least, that’s how it works for me.