The Writing Side

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I sit in the dark with house noises all around me. Clock ticking, dog scratching, heater blowing, the quiet humming of the house breathing, surrounding us, warming us. My coffee goes down easily, I can feel the warmth.

But my heart is screaming.

I have so much to say but the words are tripping all over each other trying to get out. I stare, silent, at the blinking cursor and bright white screen. Their stark contrast to the simple surrounding me is jarring, keeping the words inside. I’m listening.

When I first started blogging, my husband said that my words don’t sound like me. At first I didn’t understand, but he was right. Sort of. In my home, I am witty, with a sarcastic humor that I picked up from my husband along the way. Around my kids, we laugh, play games, joke around. My children are picking up on our strange sense of humor and I love them for it, even among the glances we get from outsiders. It’s what weaves us together and makes our family, ours.

If you were to meet me in person, I would be the quiet introvert.  I think I like people, but I don’t have time or energy for weather-talk. Let’s just get right down in the dirt and share life together. Please. But most people don’t jump in with both feet and I’m left with the shell of me, just trying to get through whatever social situation I’m in. Sometimes I envy my husband, the social butterfly, who can get people to love him in 30 seconds or less. No, I don’t envy him…I just wonder how he does it. So I cling to him, follow him around and people think I’m OK because he makes me look better. At least, that’s been my social strategy.

But this place, this writing, learning, growing place–this is different. Amber is here. The deep part of her. My soul is melodic, it feels like gentle waves on the sea and I write to reflect that. Being creative with music, with words, has always been my sanctuary, my place of worship and rest. The voice I have here doesn’t sound like my daily mommy, wife, friend voice and that’s ok. It’s the deepest part of me, here. It sounds different, because it is different. Here, I am more me.  So I come back and write my heart onto the screen and pray that, if nothing else, it can help someone. It’s helping me.