I am in a mood. Not just today. It’s been a number of days that this mood of mine has been an unwelcome companion. I’ve blamed it on all kinds of things: work, fatigue, work, PMS, work, missing my Love across the ocean, work, etc. While there may be some truth to the above, they are only compounding factors. The truth is, I have not written in days. Nor have I exercised. The neglect of these two essentials in my life has produced a restlessness that is permeating me entire being from my exterior to my core. My very soul feels restless, as if I have left her somewhere and she cannot find her way home.
So I begin to write in an effort to find her again. As I write, the fog clears. Writing provides a path – a direct route – to where she is. We reconnect. Julia Cameron provides a perfect analogy, summing up this angst:
“Over the long term, writing is a lot like marathon running, and just as a runner suffers withdrawal when unable to run for a day or two, so too, does a working writer miss her writing work. A certain amount of writing, like a certain amount of miles, keeps the artistic athlete happy and fit. Without this regular regime, tensions build up. Irritability sets in. Life becomes somehow far less hospitable. A good writing day rights this again… It cheers them up. It energizes them. It gives them a sense of flow.”
My writing has seen me through death, divorce, depression, and despair. It has been there for all my joyful celebrations, travel, adventure, and love. My writing has never judged me (though I can hardly say the same about it), but it has challenged me. It has challenged me to be better than I allow myself to think I am. It has helped me work through confusion and fear, showing me the light in my darkest of moments, if only a pinpoint.
I look at my mood and realize I’ve been choosing the wrong companion. My writing, my true companion, has been here all along, patiently waiting for me to take notice, and engage.