It’s quite painful to keep holding your truth inside.
“I think I have emotional and creative constipation.” Laughingly, I told my Twin Cuzin Alisha last night.
As a loud chuckle rolled out deep from my belly a piece of my heart sank.
You see for the past 3 weeks I have been storing up beauty, trauma and unfinished thoughts. I haven’t written down one single word to process it all. I am bloated with imagery, poetry, brutal and real conversations.
Because something keeps telling me it’s a luxury. That only “real” authors, bloggers, and established creatives get to write.
This voice also keeps saying that you must have the “privilege” of time to write. In my more less committed seasons I did write. Wrote everyday! But that ain’t my testimony right now.
I am a full-time working, wife and Momma of three-there ain’t no time Honey!
So instead of starting somewhere, I’ve been storing up mason jars of self-pity, hater-ade and anger.
And let’s just say it ain’t pretty.
So this morning I’m choosing to scribble down a bit of what’s been locked up in my soul and mind-despite the fact I have no time.
Because there is a story and a dream burning deep inside that just won’t let me go. And it is causing a serious case of “creative constipation.”
It’s time to uncork. Lol!