For seven years, I didn’t write. Not a poem. Not a letter. Not a single thought on the internal struggle I was going through. And now, it’s like I can’t stop writing.
When I was younger, a teenager, I wrote poems all the time. I wrote about love. I wrote about fear. I wrote about loss. I wrote about nature. I wrote about heartache.
I read back on it all now and sometimes cringe at the naivety of my thoughts and hopes. I wondered why I didn’t open my journal more. Was it because I was afraid to put into words what I was thinking? Was it because if I wrote it down it became more true? Or was it the simple fact that we grow out of things?
Maybe I have grown back into it. The words keep pouring out of me like they have longed to be put on paper. I have enough courage to write them down. I still don’t think I am ready to share my story. But I am glad that somehow my love of writing has found me again.
For awhile, I thought all I had was running. I could be in my own head and not have to share that space with anyone. Now that I have this creative space open again I can lift some things off my heart. Even if it is only onto a private sheet of paper.
We told you this blog would be more than just a running blog. We hope to share parts of our life that effect us most. I think I have used running as an escape at times. A chance to literally run away. I was told that if I worked as hard at other problems in my life as I did with running then my problems would work themselves out. But I disagree.
For me, running was easier than dealing. I am trying to accept that it is time to deal now. Running can help me through. Writing can release when needed. And hopefully I’ll be able to share more as I go. I will leave you all with a poem I wrote not too long ago.
What light can Sparkle
When it’s knocked down
On the Ground.
What light can mend
When it’s left to Represent
to Shine on.
What light didn’t see you
What light goes out
When the Sun goes down.