I meet myself when I write. My truth just pours out of me because I just cannot lie to myself with my own words. I never could. When I write I am dead on truthful. I don’t even know how to pretend.
I realize that this is why there are periods of time when I don’t write. They are really periods of time in which I am avoiding me.
I am scared of what I may find out in the words that tumble onto the page, solid black against pure white, staring back at me as if locked in, never to be undone.
I meet myself in my writing and it scares me.
I avoid writing, I procrastinate, I find other things to do, because I am avoiding me.
Sometimes I don’t want to know the truth and that is the truth.
Sometimes it is more comfortable to be asleep, to be in the trance of: “this is what I am doing today, this is what I have to get done. La di dah.”
Don’t think too much about your weight, don’t think too much about the pain your body, don’t think too much about money and businessy type stuff..don’t think too much about what’s around the bend, just make the coffee, eat the breakfast, walk the dog, check the email. Do, do, and do some more. Don’t reflect. There is no time for all that when so much shit needs to get done and the bills need to be paid.
But the truth is without meeting myself on the page, I do not have access to my soul. I am lost, left wondering if I what I am doing is what I should be doing, if how I am doing it is the best most life-fulfilling way, for me.
I am left wondering about me and who in the world am I? How do I fit in, in my own world.
It is on the page where I get to meet myself again and again, I get to be my own lover, uncovering layers and layers of me that I love, and want to embrace. I get to fall in love with myself, I get to hold space for my tears, and stand up for my anger. I get to know myself beyond the story of what happened to me as a little girl. That’s important. This is the journey and the relationship that matters.
Lately I’m finding, I look forward to meeting myself on the page. I am more awake and alive and curious about myself and how my life will unfold. It is this meeting on the page that facilitates a kind of love and curiosity. Without it I would still believe the old story. If I never take the chance to meet myself again and again, I would continue to believe in my own false self and act from the person I think I am, in the darkest of times.
In essence I write to save my life and to live in it more fully and to love myself deeply.
Where do you meet your Self?