Sometimes you just have to write

Sometimes you just feel like you have to write. Sometimes it may be to share an experience, sometimes to ease the load, to inform, to reflect, to off-load, to celebrate.

There are so many reasons to write. So many ways to do it.  I confess I run this blog that I very infrequently add to.  But this time I didn't want to tap my thoughts into a keyboard and have them saved somewhere in cyberspace.  

This time I wanted to enjoy the physical act of putting pen to paper. I bought a new pen. I waited a week. I bought a notebook as I browsed a gift shop full of beautiful and expensive items.

And now I write (this was all handwritten first and I am just now transcribing to online media).  Sitting on the bus (wish that was really the reason for the messy script) commuting between meetings and putting thoughts down in ink, on paper.

This is release.  This is my release. A chance to put it down in writing, to empty my mind of these thoughts, commit them to text and move forward.  To move on. To release the past and look onward to the future.  To tidy my mind and quiet those voices who nag at the edge of my conscious self and erode my chance of optimism and esteem.

I have dabbled in the dark pool that is mental illness, have dipped my toes in the water and sent ripples across the surface of my mind.  I have stared into the abyss that is depression and while I have not fallen, I've been tempted to jump.

So today I write. I write to journal my thoughts, put them out there to see, to review, to question and to, finally, put them behind me where they belong.

I write to calm the black dog, to lull him, to keep him at bay and reclaim my self.

And so it begins...