The Search

From a letter to a friend:

I was thinking of what I could say about the search. I think for me the search became conscious when I got so depressed I wanted to die. That was when I was in my mid 30's. At that time I would be very dark for months at a stretch. A friend suggested I write in a notebook just to get the verbal chattering out of my head and onto the page. She recommended I scribble words each day when I first got up, before thinking too much about it. I did it for days, then weeks, months, and years. I was hooked, and the notebook became a friend. I call my daily writing my spittoon.

I think writing helped me more than all my years of talk therapy and gave me both an outlet and an inlet. To this day cutting loose on the page is a tool to help me find my center. The time I spend with my notebook is a bit like Quaker meeting and meditation combined. Perhaps giving myself permission to sit and explore and listen each day is the hardest part. I must remember that, no matter what, my freedom is in my mind. Giving it voice has been a long, slow process, like peeling an onion to its core.