Saturday, August 6, 2011


I started this blog with every intention of posting nearly every day.  I started it KNOWING that's what I would do.  I've always enjoyed writing and I've always found it therapeutic.  I haven't written now for years, since I had my first child nine years ago.  I don't know what made me think I could just jump back into it and the words would just flow.  Maybe the fact that I have a lot to say?  But the words don't come.  They are trapped inside my head, fighting over each other to get out.

I've been told that my writing has promise.  My teachers and professors loved it.  Now I read it and I sound stupid to my own ears.  I sound sad and pathetic.  I suppose I am.  I suppose that's what my life has become.  Of course there are wonderful parts of my life.  Parts that are bright, glimmering halos over the sadness that weighs on me nearly every moment of every day.  But the blackness of this despair I feel is what really colors my reality.

I spoke with my therapist, Stu.  (I only mention his name because I love saying it inside or outside my head. It has such a fun sound to it.)  Stu says I should try some stream of consciousness type writing.  He said this because I told him I have a million thoughts running through my head, some of them quite beautiful, but when I try to put them on paper... well it just doesn't happen.  I have about six posts that I have started on here and never finished.  In fact, every single one of them is two or three sentences long and then it just stops.   I find myself avoiding this blog because I know I'll get here and lock up.

But here I am today.  Saying a whole lot of nothing.

I do know this.  I miss my boy.  I miss Holden.


  1. This is exactly how I feel about my blog these days. So much to say, no freaken idea how to say it anyomre. It all sounds better in my head, so that's where I keep it. And I don't think that is doing me any good.

  2. I can't tell you how much it means to me to see your comments every time I finally find the words to post. You have been such an amazing support to me, Sally. I don't think you even know it.

  3. It can be so frustrating when you have so much going around and around in your head but no way to get it out. So it all remains trapped inside your head. I know I've gone through a few phases like that myself.

    Perhaps you should try and so as Stu suggests? I agree with what you say about his name which is why I am writing it in this comment! Just try writing it all out and see where it goes.

    And I think that all of us here know that, no matter what we write or don't write, we miss them. I'm sorry you are missing your Holden. I wish your boy were with you. xo

  4. I always have a problem finding a way to just write about one thing, rather than the many rolling around my head. It jumps around so randomly that putting it all out on here would be a nightmare.

  5. Nerissa, I think this is my first time commenting here, and I'm sorry I haven't done so sooner. I relate to every single word here - I absolutely can relate to that feeling of being blocked, muted, like none of the words do my feelings justice, or I'm just repeating myself over and over: I miss him. I love him. I miss him.

    I agree with Stu, though (Stu! It is a fun name, for certain!) that sometimes just getting it all out, without paying attention to the inner editor, can be helpful. I look forward to you sharing it when it feels right.

    Wishing your Holden were home with you, and sending much love.

  6. Nerissa, just popping round to say that I'm sorry that Holden isn't here. Missing him with you.