“If you can’t talk about it, write about it.”
Something someone said to me recently, something that stuck with me even as the light faded and the stars appeared. Something I’m still thinking about now.
I struggle with words, I speak to fast, I mumble, I can’t form complete sentences. The words get jumbled up somewhere between my brain and my mouth, and sometimes they fall flat and I trail off, hoping the person I’m with understands the words in between the lines.
It’s important to me to be able to communicate, and for so long I wasn’t able. And I guess part of me still isn’t able.
I have a very small understanding of the world, of the politics and religions, the pain and suffering. I only see what is placed in front of me, what pops up in a Facebook feed or what is read about in the local newspaper.
I don’t understand a lot of it.
But I try.
And that, I think, is one of my favourite features.
I know how to ask questions, I know how to get the information I need to bring myself to the same level of those I’m conversing with. But sometimes I need to fill the silence with something that makes me feel like I can actually contribute too, with words that are generalized and meaningless just to add something that doesn’t necessarily help or hinder the conversation.
And maybe that is why I find such solace in writing.
Because when I write I don’t have an issue with the words – they just come out and are there and make sense and I don’t have to struggle to find what sounds right.
I could write you a thousand page essay on last year’s election, and make perfect sense in what I was trying to say, and yet you throw some facts and figures at me verbally and I panic.
And maybe that’s where the first line in this post comes into play – if I can’t talk about it, I can write about it. Because the more I write about the things that confuse me the more I will be able to hold a conversation and understand the meanings in my words before I say them.
It’s a new challenge, one I am excited to accept.
To take the words I write and actualize them into reality.
If the words are meant to exist, I will find a way to create them, even if it takes me taking a step back from the moment to understand them just a bit better.
Everything is about understanding.
It all comes back down to that.
And as I seek the knowledge, I appreciate the acceptance of those in my life, who have the patience to see me through as I work to figure it out on my own.
— cassie —