I thought writing a hundred words was fun at first. It inspired me, I saw new word combinations, and themes started to emerge. I didn't take this real seriously, it was fun, it helped pass the time, and I thought it was worth mentioning to a friend of mine and his partner who were struggling with the dreaded writer's block.
When I opened an email, I saw an encouraging post from my friend, telling me about a strategy that had worked for him in the past. I emailed him back to thank him, he emailed me a hundred words, and I was blown away by what he shared. I had no idea how to respond, so I told him that I loved him, and there wasn't anything he could do to make me stop loving him.
He wrote back, and then I wrote back to him. I've been writing since I was nine. Now, at thirty-eight, I'm beginning to grasp what putting words down is really about. I don't want fame, or fortune, I'm famous, or infamous in my own way. People have called me interesting, lately I've been called brilliant, but what I really want is inner peace, and a way to heal myself. The podcast I listened to about a psychiatrist describing his own descent into alcoholism wasn't full of drama. He wanted a way to help himself, and his patients recognized his torment meant he understood what they were going through as well.
I had no idea there was so much buried hatred, horrible feelings, trapped emotions, darkness, thoughts of being a former self who thought about suicide as an option, contemplated it, wrote about it, wanted it, didn't feel that I deserved it. I have wonderful friends who have supported me through times that I felt were tough. They weren't tough, I was mentally weak. I can see that now.
The clothes I didn't have, the body that guys liked, but I hated, the parents who didn't love me or make me feel safe, others who rejected me, trashed me, talked shit about me, threatened me, used me, stole from me, violated me, I have better people skills now. I can say fuck you, but I don't have to because I'm learning who I am, discovering who I'm not, and I can love when it seems as if there isn't a reason to keep on going.
This is a dying website, and maybe I'll eventually leave. I don't know. But if I do, I'll be around, and if you really want to stay in touch, you'll know where to find me.
Take care, I love a lot of you.