Updated: Feb 15, 2022
So I had an interesting three days of quiet, ocean waves, no responding or responsibility but to just be. A wonderful solitude at Horseneck beach camping where I drew a card every night, every evening, and let myself do the pages in the morning and if more thoughts as they came during the day the journaling came out again. I think I've been trying to play by too many rules. The rule breaker in me screams at this and always has. I find I try to follow the rules often out of habits and things from when I was young but following rules never really got me anywhere.
The rules of writing, some experts like The Artists Way, say have to be in the morning but the truth is some of my most prolific stuff happens in moments OUTSIDE my home, without distraction or when I'm zoning out in my car. So much can come forward for me by just allowing stuff to pop in rather than forcing myself to focus. Stream of consciousness writing often seems a better way for me at times, but it's not the only way. Even if I was reading a book, a thought would poke in etc where I was compelled to stop what I was doing and write it knowing a nugget would emerge.
Then a thought came when a two colleagues responded to a post in a private group about about me complaining about writing longhand vs …type or text in comparison and how that supported my epiphoney filled nuggets. I was complaining that I hate writing long hand for a variety of reasons. That was the nugget that came the last few days after taking the advice of these two women. I'm still marveling over the rest of them.
As I sat with the gentle reminders from each colleague, us healers so often do need this, I allowed my hand and mind to drift onto the page with pen. I accepted that something was there I didn't see. Even healers need outside eyeballs! I opened my pages and began the flow.... When the resistance hit and the pain in my hand hit I started being observant as to what was happening. I would skip letters, struggle to stay in my normal all capital artsy flow writing in one stroke without lifting my pen except from word to word. Pieces would trail off. My mind couldn't keep up with my hand. Sometimes my mind would keep going, but the hand would get stuck like and stop. AH! An observation that I truly saw and noted consciously this time. Then I just put it out there... Why?
The flood of info came. Handwriting was the first beginning of me trying to separate myself from the crowd, wanting to have a cool signature that I saw musicians and artistic people have and, my identity outside of my Mother. I remember now in second grade trying to curl the end of my a's and getting them slashed and losing points on my final grade because it wasn't "correct." Really asshole?? It's still an "a" and it doesn't change the legibility. *rolls eyes* Fast forward or backward to next.
I always marveled at my father's handwriting and noted how unique he always was. Living his truth. He truly does. He doesn't apologize for who he is ever. My mother a wonderful woman, but held so much resentment for and anger towards. That is a different blog. I didn't appreciate her perfect beautiful handwriting. So schooled. So ... so inauthentic. A judgement I now realize in retrospect. I realized as my childhood to adolescence, to teenage, to adulthood my handwriting changed numerous times to where I am now.... the realization hit me - BAM - right between the eyes.... I wanted to be authentic. I wanted no similarities to my mother. Not her handwriting nothing. She wanted me to be someone I wasn't. For years I acquiesced because when I rocked the boat even slightly it didn't turn out super good for me emotionally. This was so damaging for me in many ways. My handwriting from childlike learning letters and numbers turned to circles and bubbles over my i's and interesting swoops of extenders and descenders (YAY graphic artist talk). Eventually morphing into a sort of all capital style. MY subconscious nags at me even now as I write this... PSSSSST the capitals is because you never really felt heard. OOF. Another truth. A truth of which I knew and had faced before, but not regarding or even would have associated that with my handwriting! Interesting how we develop things we don't realize. Coping mechanism or some shit. You see... For years I was never - Kaile. I was so and so's Daughter, or so and so's Little Sister. I was even awarded the nickname for many years into my teens "Little So and So" my mothers name. "You look just like your mother!" They didn't mean it to be derogatory, but I hated it. I didn't dare speak of it. Two powerfully well liked and talented people (for good reason) that those around them loved deeply and held in high esteem. For me, the two most damaging people as a sister and a daughter regardless of their good natured aspects.
No one compared me to my father and I supposed that's a reason I wasn't ever upset by wanting to be like him, and chose to marvel at his handwriting. I thought.... If I had cool handwriting... I'd want it to be like this. So as I dug deeper into understanding this struggled pause or intermittent stopping of handwriting and pain that was back and forth struggling to find its way out.... It was a struggle of what the hell my real handwriting is trying to be or could be. Part of my father who I loved and respected so much, part of my mother, or mine? Now it's a frightfully illegible contrast of flowing thoughts when more than a few sentences in a greeting card. Some sort of capital lettering and cursive connectors. I often find myself skipping letters or part of the end of the word comes out first and I have to go back and add the first few letters. Fucked up and magically interesting if you ask me. I was marveling at this information I knew to be true in my heart. Why hadn't I seen that before??? I realized I've had had this inherent need to be unique, special, seen, appreciated for someone that I was regardless of who I was associated with. I don't want people to define me. I want ME to define me.
Flow happens more easily if I type. Not write. I've seen these epiphanies happen regardless of long hand writing. So suffice to say, I made really deep connective from subconscious to conscious. I'll still do both, but probably more of the typing due to convenience, but I'll try to make more room for penmanship to see what my handwriting will now develop into. Thank you Mary and Angela for the gentle polite prompt. I'm definitely someone who responds to direct and blunt but polite rather than defensively pushy. Triggers and all.
So happy writing my friends and find your truths through varying ways of discover and connection. The Pen is indeed mighty.