writing on pause

A few weeks ago, a social media acquaintance asked me, “How is your writing going.” I typed in a flatly, “it doesn’t,” in a response that only my dogs and keyboards could hear. Honestly, I was truly shocked that they wanted me to expound on my exit from the craft, because the few people that I’ve shared this with could really give a shit. Usually, if asked, my answer is taken with no question. But this time, it was different.

I decided to be honest with myself and examine my defiant emotion. I wasn’t happy with this version of me. After each self-declaration against my creativity, a small piece of me drowned with what I later determined as, grief. Even as a child, I have always felt an intimate connection with words and expression. I couldn’t wait to write a story or a poem and developed a habit for doodling words in abandoned margins. Yet somehow the creative part of me that love the leap of flowery words and clever sprint of metaphors, had somehow faded. I meditated on this for a while to find an answer to my “why?” It was then that I uncovered an anger riding on the ugly effect of trauma.

I realized how much I despise the ugliness of trauma and the havoc that it causes on our lives. I discovered that I had lost my journey into writing recently, after three distressing years in academia. Generally, I have always felt a lack of support with my writing and any conversations surrounding the craft and within academia it wasn’t any different. The harshest criticism that I received was voiced through academia, at the lowest times in my life. My poems were mocked in class by one “distinguished” professor, along with nasty red comments masquerading as green positivity from another. It led me into the arms of imposter syndrome, which I still have a tough time stepping away from.

Honestly, I’m not sure if I’ll ever return to that childhood joy of writing. While writing this, a rush of emotions is waving through me, but I welcome them and this writing journey. I’m not sure what category to put this in now, I guess as most things in the ebb and flow of life, it’s uncategorized.