tears rage on my scalding face –
lack of authenticity;
shadow of nothing;
everything in between, blatant mendacity – Me
Yesterday, after pondering over some of the comments it occurred to me that sometimes people want to know what is going on behind the thoughts of creativity. I also, realized how much I feel that it is a treasure when others share their inspiration or thoughts behind their creations in whatever means.
I tend to keep quiet on this blog and only share my poems because I have several other blogs where I share my many, MANY thoughts that never stop! 🙂
It is a rarity that I can articulate the emotions that led to my words flowing out the moment that I am writing them. Today happens to be one of those rare days that I can share with you some of my inspirations.
I have a lifetime of feeling inadequate; there are many reasons for that. They range from being a “surprise pregnancy” for my teenage unwed parents, to years of abuse in various forms. It spawns especially, in my writings. I had years of people not understanding my words and expressions and because of that they told me that my words were stupid. They dismissed them. They degraded my talents and gifts – the only thing that came naturally and easily for me – writing and poetry were unworthy.
Those emotions rise every time I share my words. I have managed to overcome my panic attacks and fears by pushing that “publish” button for the last four years on my main blog. I have managed to overcome many of these feelings by doing the same on this blog and my short story blog.
Still there are some days, like today when I feel that my words have become stale. They seem to lack the true expression that I am trying to pour out. As I read several other blogs today filled with such exquisite prose and lavishly beautiful poetry, I felt lacking. The feeling of inadequacy lies to me and tells me that I am not a true writer or poet – I am a fraud!
I do not compare my writing with others; it is not that at all, it is admiration and the longing to achieve such great writings that I read through so many talented others. It pushes me to find that inner voice and rawness that I have not allowed to come out. I am fairly transparent, even my fictional characters seem to live and breathe some sort of reality, though many times I do not realize that I am being so exposed.
The words fly out of me before my emotions connect to them on most days. 🙂
I suppose what this poem truly means to me is that I still have so many layers of unearthed self, hiding away that could be peeled away manifesting into creative vulnerability. I want to tap into that, but I find myself stopping at times, which makes me feel as though I am not being true to myself.
I feel like clawing off my skin, running around naked, revealing my bloodstained knees, my boiling over wounded heart, and retching words from within my marrow to expose what truly hides beneath this outer shell. The shell that has carried too many lesions covered in band-aides instead of allowing them to fester over and heal.
I stand in the mirror looking at a facade because I have never been allowed to get to know myself in an intimate way. All of the lies that have been poured over me claiming that I am inadequate have blurred my eyes and tainted my heart.
I am not sure if this makes sense to others. I truly hope it does. I feel rather exposed and fragile, but I believe that is the point. In order to move forward this must happen. In order for me to crack open creativity I must find the hidden parts of myself – it is a lifetime commitment. It is a lifetime of digging deep into the parts. The things that seem to keep silent in the dark, they lie waiting to walk into the light.
I do not know what this means, I only know that I am not the same woman I was yesterday.