So Angie Writes – Life's A Challenge, So Angie Writes!

So Angie Writes – Life's A Challenge, So Angie Writes!

Trauma Recovery – Shame Resilience – Self-Compassion – Coping With Chronic Pain

Dormant- About My Writing Voice

August 23, 2014 | 8 Comments

From the time I was quite young, I recall making up stories in my head and acting out plays in my backyard. I’d swing under the open Kansas sky and imagine flying creatures which painted clouds upon a blue canvas. I’d weave weeds together into jewelry and lord over ladybugs. I’d pack a satchel of snacks, head for the back acre, and wait for the train to come by. Surely one day I’d be big enough and brave enough to hop the Santa Fe and ride it all the way to Disneyland.

These days I don’t make up stories. I relive trauma and transcribe the present. Gone are the days of unicorns and rainbow-painters. This is the time of mindfully telling. My throat is tight. My feet sink in grass. My hands are stiff. The day has passed. This is the way I write in my journal and on my blog. An interesting transition from Angie at six to Angie at thirty-six.

Perhaps my magical voice is just dormant, waiting for an eventual Spring when my PTSD symptoms are less acute, and there is time again for singing sunbeams. Until then, I’ll keep with my three-part writing plan, as seen on my bulletin board-

Write hared and clear about what hurts. -Ernest Hemingway

Pick up a pen, look inside, write down what you find

Write ALM August Writing Prompts

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8 people are talking about “Dormant- About My Writing Voice

  1. I still see the six-year old Angie, from time to time, mostly in the pictures of your hiking adventures. She is in there, waiting for the pain to subside. And, while working through your issues, know that the thirty-six-year old Angie is spectacular, just as she is. <3

  2. While I love your current writing, I would also love to have known that 6 yr old Angie. I think a 6 yr old (ok I would have been 7 lol) me would have met you on those adventures. Oh how those dragons in the sky weren’t imaginary. They were real, I say! Can you hear it? Can you feel it? Can you smell it? Oh those days of running in the wood losing boots & shoes as my feet carried me ever faster up over logs & ducking under trees. Nothing wrong with your current writing at all. Your adventure is different now, but you are still the same. You’re still approaching those dragons with courage and abandon.

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