When I was a kid I kept a journal in fabric covered blank books. I would write the day’s events before I went to bed, recording what I did, who I saw, and on occasion, how I felt. I’m not sure why, but I always felt compelled to write, to record my life for posterity.
Perhaps this compulsion was linked to my belief that there were video cameras lurking around every corner, recording my life like The Truman Show.
[That movie brought validation to every twenty-something who grew up suspecting their life was a sit-com.]
If I missed a day, or a series of days, I felt overwhelmed by the task of catching up my adoring fans on the events I had missed writing about. And oh how exciting those events seemed to me.
Sometimes I would go weeks without writing. At some point I would attempt to start the chronological recap, only to give up or get tired before the task was done. Discouraged, several more days would pass, and I would be even more behind in my event recording.
I felt traumatized that whole gaps of my life had not been recorded for posterity, though now, as an adult, I feel no lesser of a person because a few pages were left blank.
I have been distant from my writing this week.
Many things are swimming in my head – too much confusion to express in printed word. This is where my introversion takes over, my tendency to process internally, then express in writing what I have come away with.
I once read a book, I can’t remember the name, but in it the mother processed her stress while keeping busy. If there was tension in her home, or if she was upset about something, she would wash dishes.
Washing dishes kept her hands busy, kept one side of her brain occupied so the other side could muddle through all the confusion. If there were no dishes to wash, she would empty out the cupboards and rewash all the clean dishes, just to go through the motions.
I SO related to her. I have never read or seen a fictional character with a quirk SO identical to my own. She is me.
My house is moving toward spotless this week. I have occupied my mind with dusting and sweeping and decluttering and rearranging of decorations. Lord knows it needed a little overhaul.
I have needed this break from writing. I have needed to tap into something more internal this week. There are some things only the Holy Spirit can reveal, and I need to be listening carefully.