Curious, I began reading. And was shocked. I haven’t gotten very far, but considering how I wrote 50,000 words in less than three days, I didn’t think it would be very good. I guess strong emotions can create better writing then I realized, though. This story is not autobiographical, but all the emotions are. I wrote it when I was trying to find deep healing from my six years with Lyme disease. And the healing came as I poured out my thoughts on the page. Anyway, I know y’all like to read snippets of my writing, so that’s what you get today. Let me know if you want to read more in the future. 🙂
I was planning on writing a different post today, then this is turning out to be. There were some pictures I wanted to include, so I began searching through my emails, trying to find the pictures. That’s when I stumbled upon the story that I wrote back in September. Believe it or not, I haven’t opened the document since I finished writing it.
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Stepping out into the cold blast of a mid November day, I scanned the sky for signs of the snow letting up. All I saw was a solid gray lid of clouds. The thought cheered me until two kids around my age walked past talking about how tomorrow would be a snow day for sure and it was the last day before break, so they wouldn’t have school again until after Thanksgiving. I waited until I got out to the SUV, had turned it on and had the heat blowing at me on full blast before I let the tears beginning dripping down my face. And dripping is the right word. I had created a block several months before that kept me from sobbing my eyes out. Sometimes I wish I could go back to when I was a little kid and just cry like crazy again, get all those pent up emotions out, but I didn’t know how to.
Emotions dripping slowly down my face didn’t empty them from my heart very quickly, but it did give me some relief. School. I wrote the word slowly on the fog that covered my window. I used to love the word. It meant new and exciting subjects. Friends and visiting. Teachers who’s tales would take me far away on the wings of my imagination. Goodness, I was competitive enough I even enjoyed the tests because even though I wasn’t a model student, I always strove to learn as much as I could and that was a good gage for me to see how much I was doing compared to myself the year, or month, before.
By the time Mom broached the subject of home schooling me right before school started for the year, I was to the point where I no longer cared. Where all I did was dread the hours I would be stuck behind a school book where all the words blended together to create a churning headache that then blocked out every word my teacher told me.
Even now I had brought a small history book in my purse. I made it a habit to bring some kind of educational book with me wherever I went. That way if by some strange chance I could actually think, then I would get studying done. Dully I pulled it out of my bag and flipped through it. History used to be my favorite. I found the study of previous generations to be so insightful and interesting. All those wars that are talked about so commonly, World War One, World War Two, the Cold War, the Revolutionary War, the French Revolution. All those were just names until you got down to the facts. Why and how did they start? What did they accomplish? Who were the key contenders? Now though… Now it was like my mind was at war with the words I was trying to take in. As if my mind had created a block so that it wouldn’t intercept any unknown facts. And I was powerless to make it surrender.