I was asked by a writing prompt today to go into a dark room and write without knowing where I’m writing or what. At the end, it posed a question: “How did the anonymity make you feel?”
I sat in a darkened bathroom and I wrote down: my most secret monsters, things that scare me, what I am afraid that I lost for all eternity, and what it all could possibly mean? I felt my innermost being slowly empty of all stress, anxiety and concern as my pen swept quickly across the page—overlapping words, phrases, hurt, desire, longing, and finally acceptance.
After some time, I opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom into the lit staircase—walking towards my destination: the back porch where the sun streams in, I can hear the birds and quiet movement in the neighborhood. I can view a garden not more than ten feet from me—peaceful, relaxing.
The exercise mimicked where my heart, my innermost self can move and away from both extremes.
One of the focal points of this writing challenge has been what I am afraid of losing. I think I can finally start to answer that. I have lost: many, if not most of my material possessions; most of the places of my past; past profession possibilities; my children…But I can honestly say that I am starting to find myself.