I have just realized I have been silent on the blog for almost 3 years. Many things have happened since I last posted, and some of these (like the death of my beloved grandmother) are the reason why I haven’t felt like writing. I guess it sounds perfectly normal and understandable, yet to me this is completely new: in the past, especially in my early twenties, the only way I knew to cope with pain was writing.
I actually started writing at a very young age, when my aunt decided to quit this world without as much as a goodbye: I had to tell her that I loved her, and to do so I wrote a poem. Thinking about it now, I guess I needed just as much to tell myself that I loved her, despite the resentment I felt at the beginning for having been abandoned that way (when you are 6 years old, everything seems to be about you).
I don’t know why, but writing doesn’t seem to heal my wounds anymore. I feel like I am drowning in my own thoughts… have you ever felt this way? I am struggling for inner peace, and at the same time I wonder what it really means, to feel at peace with oneself… I have always had this love-hate relationship with myself.
So, what’s the solution if no real nor virtual ink can help anymore? I’m not sure I have come up with one yet… but yesterday I attended my first yoga lesson. It was… strange. In a good way, but still strange. I exercise regularly and I am also an introspective person, so I thought yoga would have been super easy for me. Apparently, though, the most difficult thing for me is not to focus on thoughts, to leave problems behind, to just sit and relax. I guess I had underestimated the burden of my thoughts! I will attend this course twice a week, so in a month or two I’ll probably be able to tell you if it’s helping me or not. Right now it just feels good to have started a path that might lead me to inner peace… whatever that means 😉
Have a zen week everyone!
This post belongs to a blog circle called Sisterhood Stories. Please read my friend Kay’s entry and complete the circle! 🙂