At times I am desperate for the release, for the therapy that happens when I place pen to page, but one of the many lessons I have learned in these short years of parenting is that nothing stays the same for long – a day will come again when I have the time I desire, but only at the sacrifice of no longer having a warm baby on my chest, so I squeeze in the moments when I can, O in the crook of one arm while I write with the other.
Time to do as I desire may be hard to come by in this season, but today I commit to myself that I will make time to do one of the things I crave most even if it is in small doses, to promise myself to capture these moments and emotions I want to look back on – the best gift I can think of giving myself as the years continue to come and go. This desire is not a new one, but it is one I have left unfulfilled for far too long whereas writing used to be a daily habit.
Journals fill a suitcase in our art room and were set aside when the weight of the words became too much and though they are heavy and though I will happily bundle and burn them when I am through – at the time those words are what helped me through – some may have alcohol some may have drugs, but I mostly have bic pens and cheap notebooks. I know I will never regret taking the time to write, I will only regret all of the words unwritten and while these days I am not looking for salvation so much as savoring, the words are just as important and the desire for release is just as strong.
Notebooks and pens will once again be kept handy and even when I find myself exhausted and drained I will find myself to them to capture even those moments for the beauty of their rawness. It may be a challenge and it may happen one-handed, but it will always be worth the effort.