My Writing Journey Pt3
Hidden from the outside 'socially accepted world', I continued to write my story. At times, it was overwhelming. I felt like I was in conversation with a psychiatrist. Instead of in a room, stationed in a lounge chair and talking to someone I didn't know, I found myself building a relationship with my laptop; pouring my heartfelt emotions onto the virtual pieces of paper before my eyes. Each keystroke would give me more clarity, bringing me closer to reality. Some days, I felt as if I was only typing a diary entry and not actually writing valid content; other days, I struggled to stop.
Reliving parts of my past that I had been running from for so long, was overwhelming to deal with. Often, after a session of writing I would be zoned out for the next few hours; physically present, however mentally rattled and caught up on my own words. At times, looking at my past world laid out in front of me through the words I had written, was extremely hard to take in. Some days I would be in shock; reading and re-reading what I had written, and thinking to myself, “...Did I actually live through these situations, or are they a figment of my imagination?” Knowing that these words were describing situations from my past, I believe some days I was searching for a different reality.
I guess 'the writing process' for me, was an explosion of mixed emotions that I will constantly struggle to explain. Going from failing at most things in life and never getting good results in school, to finding something I am so extremely passionate about (and have been told I am good at) has actually been really hard to take in. Even though I have written a book; I still struggle to believe I have done something that so many people can’t comprehend doing. For me, although I love, live and breathe writing every day, it’s just ‘writing’; putting one word after the other in the hope that it all makes sense.
I really don't want my perspective on 'writing a book' to sound cocky, or like it was a breeze for me to do; it was very far from this. I guess, although I still have a long road ahead, I have honestly reached points in my writing journey that at the start I’d only ever dreamt of. Until I saw myself at these points, I had always thought the impact these milestones would have on me would be tremendous. Unfortunately, living with the pleasure of being so hard on myself, for reasons I'll never know; I still haven't felt that burning sense of achievement that I believe I should be feeling.