Why I Write

As most of the people in my life know, I am a pretty quiet person. I prefer a quiet night at home to heading to a rowdy party or huge gathering. I am an introvert. Quite often, I cannot put my thoughts into words the way I want to. But when I write, the words come easily. Sometimes I write a piece I didn't even realize was in my head. It just spills out. Another thing I have difficulty with is labeling my emotions. But if I write about them in an abstract way, like in a poem about the bottom of the ocean, I can reread it and discover which emotions I'm feeling. Writing is also a way for me to connect with other people without the pressure of speaking face to face. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy a good conversation, but for me, it is easier to touch other people with my writing. I have reached others who can relate to what I am feeling and going through. I've heard numerous times that my words have made someone feel less alone. So this is why I write. To reach others, to touch hearts, to translate my own emotions, to heal, to cope, to communicate.

I wrote this piece as I thought of the mess that's in my head. My thoughts are disorganized and often feel incomplete. But when I put pen to paper they flow from me coherently.

I write my pieces on one of my four typewriters. I will introduce you to them on another post. 

Guilt

Depression is not reasonable. I was talking to Jon, my husband, last night about how thinking about being depressed is so depressing because at first I blame myself, but then I remember it's not my fault, and then I feel depressed because if it's not my fault what can I even do about it? And so the cycle carries on. It's a silly thing, and I don't think like this all the time.

The guilt of letting my family down when I am immobilized by my depression is...immobilizing. Another circular thought pattern! I admit, I get into my own head too often. I tire myself out thinking in circles but I don't DO anything about it...maybe because I'm immobilized by depression.

I wrote this piece a couple of months ago. The only way to address feelings of guilt is to take it to God. He's the one who clears our names and offers us the ultimate comfort.


When I feel guilt
I feel it in the back of my throat.

I feel it in the glands
behind my jawbone.

A squeezing of my throat
and the taste of bile
tingling on my tongue.

My eyes burn
with acid moisture.

I'm immobilized,
My own personal
purgatory.

Except, there are
no amount of
indulgences you could buy
to lessen my time.

-Rose Luiten

Patience

As many of you know, I have two daughters and one son. Jason is 5 and he has autism. The autism spectrum is huge. On the scale, Jason would fall on the mild end and would be considered high functioning. Another term that most people are familiar with is Aspergers. I used to watch Parenthood and I saw glimpses of Jason in Max, the boy on the show with Aspergers. Jason is brilliant. He's a joy and a treasure. But it's not always easy and I have been dealing with a lot of emotions surrounding this lately. One emotion I'm feeling is guilt because I am dreading the Christmas holidays with no school for Jason to escape to. I find he has such difficult days at home. He loves school. He hates being home. It hurts. And I'm scared these holidays will be full of tantrums and meltdowns, tears and shouting matches.

Here is a poem I wrote two nights ago.



He's a gift. Jason has taught me so much. And daily he teaches me patience. And daily I pray for that patience.

An Introduction

I have had this blog site kicking around for a few years but I've never really utilized it. Lately, though, I have been writing more and more and I'm hoping this will be a good platform for sharing my work (mostly poetry, with a smattering of prose).

I've always had a knack for writing but it was a chore. It was hard work and I wasn't up for the challenge. But things have changed over the last couple of months as I've discovered what an outlet it is to write down my thoughts. If you know me in person, you know that I am not a talker. I often struggle with finding the right words. Not so with writing. This is why I tend to avoid phone calls and use text messages or email instead. Writing is my comfort zone. I'm coherent and can plan what I need to say ahead of time instead of stuttering and stalling with awkward pauses and blank stares.

Over the past year, I have struggled with depression. I've had so many ups and downs with this mental illness and one of my main outlets now is writing. How am I doing at this moment? I'm confident and happy. This could change tomorrow. The worst part is not knowing when I will slide back into it. It gets tough this time of year. My other outlet is running, and with the busyness of the holidays I have been slacking with my exercise regime. And then there's my diet. Holiday baking, extra drinks and snacks all adds up to a rather unhealthy lifestyle, so it's no wonder I have been struggling a bit lately.

Recently, I shared a few of my poems with a group of 160 women. It was a huge leap outside of my comfort zone but it also gave me confidence in my writing and the positive feedback was incredibly heartwarming and rewarding. I'd like to share one of the pieces I read from that evening. It is a piece that is close to my heart. There's a cliche of the angel on one shoulder and the demon on the other, but I think it's more realistic to realize that we have darkness on both sides and it's only through looking up and past ourselves, to God, that we will find the help and love we need to move forward.


Crow and Raven

Here I sit,
with this raven upon my shoulder.
Precariously perched on the other is its brother, the crow.
Both cunning yet craven,
feathers creaking as they shift and blink
beady black eyes
at each other over my head.
Beaks clack.
Open. Shut. Open.
They call, croaking,
quarreling, conniving.
I starve this midnight pair,
refusing to feed my fears to fools such as these.
You brazen bullies,
Leave me be.
Return to your horde, you Raven.
Return to your murder, you Crow.
Begone, you cowardly, cold hearted, carrion.
Carry on.