On Saturday morning, I was writing my morning pages* and it morphed into a poem. When I realized what I'd done, a sob burst out of me and my brain couldn't keep up. Am I sad...or happy? Why am I crying?? Just writing about this makes me tear up again.
It's been over 15 years since I wrote poetry. As a teenager, I didn't feel safe about expressing my emotions so I poured it into writing. I stopped writing when I entered 'the real world' because I convinced myself that I was meant to be in the STEM field and I was never creative, I was just playing around. But now, I'm relearning how to play because that is when I feel the most alive. That's why my word for 2021 is play.
Back to my sob story (pun intended). Something inside of me cracked open when I wrote that poem. I'm still processing what it meant so I'm staying curious.
*I have to tell you about morning pages. Since last Monday, I put myself on a twelve-week course using the book The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron. It's for anyone who feels stuck creatively or thinks they aren't creative. Part of the process are morning pages where you basically write a stream of consciousness for at least three pages. You don't share them; you don't even look back and read them. They are truly magical - writing them makes me feel free.
