Today is the 130th day of 2016.
I have written every one of those days.
Some days I have half-assed it, just barely showing up enough to call it writing.
But most days I. Show. Up.
I write. I edit. I revise. I re-imagine scenes to make them deeper, more real. I haul out the words and stories buried in my body, in my psyche, ones that are weighing me down, holding me back.
Today, as I rolled out of a 30-minute meditation, trying to stay in that soft space, I picked up my notebook and pen, watching the pink ink spill across the page and I realized that writing is no longer just something I show up for. It’s not longer just a red “x” I make on my board.
Writing has become my soft place to land everyday—even when what I am writing is hard and jagged.
Writing is no longer (well, more often) this “other” that I battle, compare, belittle and judge.
I have finally befriended my writing and it has befriended me.
It reminds of this:
And here is the fascinating thing:
The more I befriend my writing, the more I am befriending my body—the more I befriend my whole self.
The more real I am on the page, the more I let it all out, the more compassion I seem to generate for myself and all the parts I used to deem as broken or unacceptable or unlovable.
My youngest daughter (19 years old) recently attended my Poses, Pens + Inner Peace class which combines some writing with yoga. The topic of that “inner mean girl” voice came up. Later at dinner, I asked E.if she experienced that voice.
She shrugged and said, “Nah…my voice petty much says ‘You do you, Girl!'”
As her mom, I loved hearing that.
,As a woman I loved hearing that.
As a writer, I realize that is exactly what my writing says to me:
“You do you, Girl. I got your back.”