I've found that I go through seasons where I feel overwhelmed by the fullness of all that is going on within me. There are moments where the fullness leads to a sort of purging as I somehow find a way to expel the contents of my mind or heart. But there are other times when the fullness doesn't feel so much like something I must get rid of, but rather something I must swim around in until I find words capable of expressing the heaviness I feel all the way to the bone.
For the time being, I am entrapped (necessarily) in a season of wordlessness...partially prompted by the re-reading of a book I was brave enough to play with initially last Christmas season by the suggestion of my practicum facilitator. I am now re-reading it for a class assignment and I'm struck by how I am able to read my own life through my interaction with the real life characters of this book.
Here is a simple taste of what has led me into this season of dumbness:
"Driving away in the gray, muted green of the early evening, I want to hide myself in the yellow leaves and silent shadows, slink into the dusky edge of myself. Out of sync with the new clinical speech of my friends, I feel like a foreigner in a strange land. I admonish myself not to take it all so seriously. I roll down the window and the night air blasts in, roars in my ears."
"I watch the snow begin to fall under the streetlight outside the window. I push aside the subtle but ominous feeling that my life is not whole, the increasing sense that the pieces simply don't fit together. I push aside the knowledge that I am leading a double life of sorts: as a promising young woman without a past, or with a past made up to fit a life she wants for herself so badly that anything invented is bound to be a better choice than the actual past. I push aside too the impression that although many people feel close to me, no one has a whole picture of me, and this is bound to catch up with me sooner or later."
From A Shining Affliction by Annie G. Rogers, Ph.D