I’ve always been someone who can write into an answer. There have been very few times when I have true “writer’s block” in the sense that the words just won’t come. Not for very long, anyway. Sure, sometimes the words I WANT won’t come, but I can usually get something on the paper.
I’m pretty darn stuck right now, though. Actually, I’ve been stuck for quite some time. There are just these couple things I really want to write about. Have to write about. But I can’t. I just can’t. And I don’t know what to do about that. I think I’ve written around it (and around it, and around it, and around it….) but I still can’t write it. It just doesn’t want to be written. Or it does, and I just can’t do it.
Can you sense my confusion?
This stuck point in my writing, though, is also a stuck point in my life, see? It’s causing problems. All sorts of problems. So, if I could just write it, give it an outlet, maybe I could reach some clarity. Maybe something would be clarified. But I can’t find the point of what I want to say to say it. Hence the meaning of the word “stuck.” Unable to proceed.
How do I give voice to this struggle? This is the question in my heart. One of the questions in my heart.
What are you going to do? How are you going to make a difference? Where are you going to put your words—your tools and weapons—to make a change? This is the next part of it. I want—desperately want—to make a difference. To make a change. Not with everything, but about one issue in particular. I want to make a change in the one area I feel silent about. I want to speak out about the one thing that shuts my heart down and puts my emotions into hibernation. I want to feel angry and empowered, and I want my words to fly from my brain to the page, from my heart to the page, and I want to know that someone will read my words and their struggle will be eased. I want to know that, because I hurt, that one less person will have to hurt. I want to know that someone, somewhere, will benefit.
But I am silent. And silenced. I continue to hold my breath—and my tongue—to protect us. Them and me, for if I protect myself, I am also protecting them, and this is what I don’t want to do. There is no one stopping me but me, so I am angry at myself, and the struggle continues.
Even the people who know this struggle—who know of my struggle—they ask, “how are you?” and they mean it. And I tell them, “some days are better than others,” because I know they mean it. They look for more of an answer, and I fall silent, avert my gaze, change the topic. Some days ARE better than others, but that is not really how I am. To tell you how I am would be to break that silence, and breaking the silence is hard. Too hard. So I don’t. Not today, or now. Breaking that silence would let you know things about me that you probably don’t want to know. Things I keep hidden. It would reveal how I really am.
We all have struggles we have difficulty voicing. We all have places where we are silent when we want to speak. How do you give voice to your struggle? Have you? Would you? Will you? Is it important to you to break through the silenced places? How will you do it?