Writing Reformed Me As a Talker

Musings from a healed soul

I am not a writer. I am a talker. I can talk all day and not get exhausted. That is not to say that others don’t get exhausted listening to me, but I process my thoughts as I talk. Or, that is what I use to do.

I am also a stay at home homeschooling mother to eight children, and while I talk to them, I can’t talk with them. Do you catch my drift? At least this is true for my younger crew. I am starting to have more engaging conversations with my young teenagers.

One day, a few months ago, everything shut down. We all remember that unprecedented time called quarantine. Most of us are still living in some version of it. Life is certainly not the same.

My outlet of talking vanished. No longer could I speak to other parents at my children’s sports practices, or talk to others at church or Bible study.

I also decided at this time to step away from social media as it, I felt, became damaging to my soul.

So what is a talker supposed to do? How am I supposed to process? I have a massive aversion to FaceTime. That was off the table.

The stress I held in my body was palpable. Where are all of my words supposed to go? Enter Writing.

Initially, I wanted to share the research that I was doing in my Ph.D. program in history, but it has morphed into something else entirely.

I started with sharing research and then I wanted to be a voice for the unheard. Now I am a voice for myself because even though I spent a lot of time talking, I do not think I was actually heard. I don’t even think I listened to myself or my own heart speak.

What writing has allowed me to do is become mindful and hear my thoughts and heart. The mindfulness that comes from writing is what is the true therapeutic value. The benefits of this form of therapy are:

-Decreased stress -A more robust immune system -Facilitating of growth and recovery -Decreased depression symptoms -Improved general health (Positive Phycology).

What’s more, yesterday as my family went out to go for an evening walk. When I saw people, I had only a few words to say.

I was no longer blurting out of compulsion or the desperate need to process my thoughts at the expense of some poor passerby.

I had already dealt with the inward me. I had already processed all of my thoughts. I could share with others now in a more measured discourse. I didn’t feel the need to get it all out.

I had already emptied my heart because of my writing. It took a pandemic to draw this out of me, and I am so grateful for it. There is a lot of room for me to grow. However, with only 2.5 weeks of writing, my words have been viewed almost 8,000 times. I see more growth in this.

Diamonds form in the rough. A diamond is not formed out in the open exposed to air and other elements; it is formed in the deepest part of the earth where extreme pressure is applied. When it comes from the surface, it reflects beauty and strength that holds great value to man.

I feel the same with this new passion of mine. Had it not been for the pandemic keeping me inside, I would never have used that pressure to propel me to put pen to page.