Words.......

I don't know if you do this too.... I write a lot. Well, let's be clear here, we ALL write a great deal. We would not have blogs if we didn't like writing. But this is different.

Words pour out of me, but I never post what I write when I have this compulsion to put down the thoughts whirling about in my head. I just seem to have a need to see those thoughts in a scenario other than in my head. On the computer screen, or on paper. They dance up and down in front of my eyes when I close them..... they want to get out, and yet the things I write are too real and too raw to share. Not yet, anyway.

When I curl up on the couch, my brain seems to go into overdrive, and often, I just fall asleep, because there is too much activity behind the closed eyes for the rest of me to function. It is a comfortable feeling though, not a negative one. I am not in turmoil. The thoughts are not all doom and gloom. Just me. Sometimes I drive my family crazy, because, I may be physically there, but mentally, I am off in a world of my own, and I don't even hear them speak at times. Great mother/daughter/sister/friend. Just great. I excel at these things, quite clearly.

At my age, I have experienced a great deal. Felt a many emotions. Met many people. Seen many things. I have found some answers, and not others. I have been challenged and challenging. I have been creative and destructive. I have taught myself and have been taught. I have laughed a lot, and perhaps not let myself weep enough. Birth, death and everything in between.... yep, been there too. I have loved, lost, been loved. Rejection? Yes. Survived? Yes, that too. Mistakes? Many many many. Regrets? Yes. And now I am beginning to sound like a song......

So

I have things to say. Lots. Not to an audience. Not to friends. Just things.

I don't feel old. Well, I don't usually feel old. I could well be becoming the epitome of the "grumpy old woman" when I see some and hear some of the things the young seem to think is acceptable, though. I hear echoes of my mother and my grandmothers...."in MY day...." They had a valid point or ninety. I am older than some, and younger than others.

The compulsion to write never seems to sleep. Or die. It is there, and it is like feeding a ravenous bear at times. Not that I have any intimate knowledge of bear feeding, I hasten to add. My fingers fly over the keyboard, and I don't bother to check the spelling or typos, and then weeks later I read over what I have written and wonder where it came from. How did I knit together the words in that particular way? Why? Why the need to write? And where on earth has it come from? Why now? Heaven knows I have a zillion things I should be doing. And writing, like letters to officialdom. And quilts to dream up and make, and scrapbooks to start, and books to read, and wood to carve, and a garden to tend. Not to mention food to cook, son to raise and house to clean. And work to do. Dreams to turn in to reality too.

And in the meantime, I write. Having a blog is such a wonderful thing, you know. Think about it...... we have a forum. We can choose what to say and when. There are people out there who actually read the things we write. We get feedback. We are our own editors. The written word is a powerful thing, and we tend to underestimate the power we actually have. Thankfully, I find myself in amongst a community of women (and some men too) who have the same set of values, beliefs, ethics and sense of humour that I have, and this frees us all to speak with ease. People who are younger, older or the same age. It doesn't matter in the least.

But some things - many things - I keep back for now.
The words, though, they just keep coming.