Silent Story

Walking away from a blog, taking a break always makes the returning that much harder. 

18 days, an almost
blog suicide.

Every day life steals away my heart, a piece of soul. And my writing becomes sporadic; I wonder if I should simply quit this whole blogging endeavor. But some sort of siren song compels me to write. I return the blog updates, pushing back the dusty cobwebs of my small bit of internet real estate. Sitting down at my cluttered desk, I punch the keys for words and phrases and sentences hoping somehow to write what I am feeling, how the burdens placed upon me grow heavier. But I can’t.

Somehow, my story has become a sealed document. The words fester inside, longing for me to give them life on the page. Again, I censor what I want to say. Some days, I write about incounous things of puppies, of sunshine, of books, and of Jane Austen. Deep inside, my heart hardens just bit because I long to share the real life, the dirty, the unperfect. But I am trapped in the “life’s perfect” mask, and I can’t get out.

Maybe, this is why I have been away from my blog for so long.

I have a story to write out, and my blog should be a somewhat safe(albeit public place) to share my story. But it isn’t. I envy blogger who can write about their non-perfect lives, who write beautiful stories of mothering or my case step-mothering, who bleed beauty and brokeness. I feel like I yelling from behind a glass prison cell. Desperate for someone to stop and listen, to tell my story beyond the perfect. But I don’t think anyone hears.

Sometimes, I wonder how a writer survives under such circumstances. Can a writer exist and not write the her story that’s in desperate need of telling? I don’t know. I’m still deeply entrenched in this burdensome silence, and for awhile longer, I remain silent and strong and brave. Well, I put on a mask of bravery. I’ve learned to cry, to hurt, to exist in this oppressive silence. Then, I replace the real with my mask, my battle armor, and head out to stand firm against this unfair thing called life.

This is the only way that I know to be strong, to write out my story for now. 

 

10 thoughts on “Silent Story

  1. I’m so sorry that you’re stuck with those words right now. I remember the brief time when we weren’t telling anyone about Jason being an atheist & it was just HORRIBLE. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. Wish I could just give you a huge hug in person, but know that I’m praying for you right now. Much love from up here in the dub vee.

    1. I think silence can be one of the hardest things for a writer. I mean we live through words, we share through words. And silence feels like such a failure sometimes. I’m learning to understand these times of silence.

  2. *sigh* I’ve been there too. When our church was dying, there was so much hurt and pain and if I barely leaked a hint of what was going on, I was smacked down so fast it was dizzying. It was awful, and some things we still only talk about with a small group of people. But I’m learning that’s the way of it sometimes. Some things aren’t our own stories to tell, which makes just telling our part impossible, at least for a time. I’m praying for you, friend.

  3. Sarah, you’re not alone in feeling that way. I think all writers go through periods like this, but some of us struggle with writing unmasked more than others. But it’s in the courage to write that messages are shared. This post is a brave one, and about as honest as it gets. Thanks for sharing.

  4. {{hugs}}

    it sounds like your voice has changed, like you’re trying to squeeze into a dress that doesn’t fit anymore? this is natural as we live our sojourn and grow and deepen and expand…i hope you find something more comfortable for you.

  5. What if it takes the times of silence to give us courage to write and experiences to share?  

    Your honesty here is pure, and I’m so glad you found the words to share.  

  6. Sarah, I’m in this season too. So much life happening and so much I want to write but when I sit to write I can’t come up with the words. But that’s what it is though- just  a season. We have to press through to the words we can say, changing the things we know we can’t, until it becomes coherent again. Transparency, yes, amazing. Step-parenting and transparency is a tough path to travel (I have lived it, I know.) Just keep writing from your heart, even if it is in small bits. It will come together. Life will settle enough. It will.  I usually lurk, but I wanted to encourage you. God bless.

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