Freewrite

I am struggling with what to write but I am burning to write something. So I am starting a freewrite exercise to see where this might take me. I have so much to write about but cannot seem to organize my thoughts long enough to get them to make any kind of sense. The written word is quite tricky. It swirls around in my head but getting it on paper can be quite challenging.

I have had this feeling throughout my life not knowing what it was. I would at times do something simple like rearrange the furniture in my house, sometimes only one room other times every room or something more drastic like move to a new house or apartment or even better, start a new business. I wish I were exaggerating.

In 23 years I have moved 19 times. Yikes that’s almost one move a year; of course I went through a divorce within that time frame which accounted for some of those moves. As I write this I find myself getting a little freaked out, thinking, I was nuts, 9 of those moves were from boredom. Moving and decorating became a change that helped satisfy this feeling inside.

It seems like a simple resolution but I know now, that some of that was my creative side not being fulfilled. It was burning to get out. I didn’t know I had a creative side. I had buried my desire to write deep down due to childhood circumstances that I don’t care to get into at this time and had convinced myself that my bookkeeping mind didn’t have room to be creative anyway. I know now that isn’t true.

There is nothing more satisfying than writing something that pleases me, no clue if it is actually any good or if anyone else will like it, but I feel good. If I still smoked I might pull a cigarette from the package and take a satisfying drag after writing something I deem terrific, but alas I no longer smoke, which gives me one more opportunity to thank God for delivering me from yet another thing that held me captive.

I smoked 3 packs a day. I couldn’t breathe without a cigarette; I know that sounds like an utter contradiction, but I believed it to be allegorically true, that belief was very powerful. Also when I was experiencing excruciating insecurities associated with my depression, cigarettes were a very good excuse to pull me from a room full of people to go outside to smoke, “alone.” Standing outside alone could make me look unsociable; standing outside alone with a cigarette simply implied I was a smoker which didn’t require an explanation as I drug myself back into the mix of society. Those were very difficult times for me.

That’s it today. That is where this freewrite took me.

I review what I have written and sadly this isn’t one of those times I would pull a cigarette from the package, (sigh) if I still smoked of course, but it’s what evolved, so I will accept it and post it as it is. Maybe I’ll have something brilliant to write tomorrow.