I hear a wild little voice within me that wants to tell stories. Not just any stories. Stories that take your breath away like a hard wind thrust up a nostril. Stories that crack your heart open with a crow bar. Not “well shit, I don’t think my meds are working very well today” stories, but stories that tumble out in a pile of words that at first, I can’t even identify the connections between. They start like that – as a slurry of words and phrases, and often become voices that persist in the front of my mind until they are freed.
It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to tell those kinds of stories. I’m not hellbent on getting any of them on paper quite yet. But I can feel that I’m almost there. When I’m there, I know I’m there, that’s just how it works. A lot of “professional” writers will say that in order to be a “real” writer, you should sit down for a certain amount of time every day and you should write a certain amount of words, and blah, blah, blah…I can do that kind of writing too, if I need to. Words are an essential part of my daily life. I write legal documents, I write press releases, I write a lot of messages back and forth with friends. I write letters. I write blog posts. But I think what I’m really talking about is recording emotion.
I can’t write these stories yet because I can’t quite make out what they’re telling me. It’s like having a conversation underwater – and I know that when we burst to the surface for air, the words will sharpen. But for now, I’ve taken a long, deep breath, and I’m not worried about what they are saying – I’m just watching the lips. They offer a loose smile, and rehearse, emitting occasional bubbles. Glance toward the sun. Savor the temporary silence.
I’ll know when it’s time.
I can’t help but wonder if my lower dose of nortriptyline is allowing this percolation. The cognitive blunting of the higher dose of meds (meds which I genuinely needed, at the time they were prescribed) was problematic. I think I made the right decision, to lower the dose. Talked to my prescriber today and I seem to be on track, and functioning well. I hesitate to even say that I think my meds were blunting my creativity a bit – but I do think they were. I don’t regret having taken the higher dose, for the amount of time that I needed it, in order to be well, but since I don’t seem to need it anymore, to be well, then I’m glad to be in the place that I am now. It is also entirely possible that after a long journey through intense transitions in my life, I may finally have rediscovered just enough of a surplus of energy within myself to be able to access some feelings and inspirations that I haven’t accessed for a while. I am at peace with either explanation.
And I am at peace waiting for the words to ripen.