So,
from 13 to about 18 I drank a lot. 18 to 25, rarely. 25 to my birthday turning
27, heavily. February 2013 to today. Moderate. I was a very talented writer in
middle and high school. I stopped for a long time. Turned what would be written
into unspoken words instead. 2010, I started writing again, trouble is, I
couldn’t be sober and write. The words always have a meaning, deep sometimes.
Trouble is, sober, I was cut off from the emotional side of myself. I’ll
explain more in another post but basically, I could only access reactions of
anger. I really only had a basic understanding of happiness. Human emotion was
all but forign.
My
mind would take the things that hurt me, or made me sad and divert them to a
locked away part of my mind before they could do damage. Though now I know how
much mental energy it took to do this, then, it was natural, and, I didn’t
realize it was being done. I could only write when alcohol or some drug
lessened this “protect” circuit, as I called it then. SO much would flow
through my pen. No thought needed. Like under the influence, another side of me
took over. Actually, sometimes, most
times, I didn’t remember writing anything. Especially the touching pages.
At
times, I was in awe myself about the things that came out. Do I really feel
like this? Where did this come from?
(There is a point to this. I didn’t realize
that I would be writing this much about me. I am not sure why this is coming
out, but, I don’t think I should stop now, nor keep it from the blog.. bare
with me for a bit. Listen.. Don’t read).
Last year sometime, I went through something
that ended up with me knocking my head pretty hard. This lead to a breakdown of
sorts. A life time of hidden emotion came from nowhere and gave me hell so to
speak. At first I was told there really was another personality inside me. As
you will hear later, that thought was changed. As for now, a whole other person
was created from all things hidden. I’d lose hours, days even. Not remember
things, or black out. Troubling yes? The incident was really needed, but at the
time, it scared me, and bad. In a literal moment, I didn’t know who I was, what
was going on. Why me? Why now? I was angry and terrified because I didn’t understand
the emotional pain or how to deal with it. All I knew was that I could not turn
it off.
The writing and thinking picked up. My mind
would process the overflowing hidden feelings during the day, at night, my
guided pen would make it physical. When I was able to gain mental control, I’d
read the words. At first it didn’t make sense. My Dr. had been reading the
writing, and, one visit, suggested that I try to listen the words. That night,
I read, but it wasn’t reading. I began listening. That fast it started to make
sense. I didn’t need medication. I wasn’t crazy. Something in me needed to be
heard. All I had to do was listen. The mental split was always there. Though,
hidden in a way. The incident, to my understanding, jarred the divisions lose,
and, the rational side of my head took over. Trying to fix itself. Slowly it
did.
My Dr. said that it is truly something unique
to be able to see and be a part of what’s going on. Saying how rare it is for
something like this to happen. The speed, trigger, healing process. Everything
about it went against what the statics of my history say should be. He took me
off of medication and gave me his pen. Saying he honestly felt as though nothing
he could prescribe me or say to me or ask me would help after our listening
conversation. All I need to do, is what I showed myself. Listen to what wants
to speak.
“Anthony,
I have heard you speak. Both aloud and on paper. Your brain is and will heal
itself. All you have to do, is listen to your words and heal you”. After some
time, he told me I no longer needed to come to his office. “You did it. As rare
as it is, you did it. You have a lot to say, speak Anthony. For myself, I don’t
mix religion and my job. You however, are blessed with a gift. A real god given
gift, and I for one, would like to see how your life will be now that you have
healed with a voice.”
(Now it makes sense. I know
what the main message that I want to be heard is.)
Just
before starting this blog, I posted a story on Facebook about a man and a
dollar. After a few comments, I realized I had posted other stories over the
years. Then it sunk in. If writing was able to heal me, maybe my writing can
help and/or heal someone else. Ramble, message, story, any of it needs to be
heard. You, we, I need to be heard. There are several messages and meanings
that can be taken from this post. Each reader may have a different
understanding or connection to it. Its point and purpose. Final thought? Don’t
be afraid to speak. Aloud or written, words are more powerful then we realize.
They have the potential to do so many things. I, now choose to use my words to
create a voice having the potential to change a life. My Voice. What will you do
with yours?
