the importance of pen to paper and feeling free.
the real writing in photo form with the computerized character dictation below.
i've been thinking lately. and i've been trying to write my thoughts out on my blog. and although my thoughts are abundant, the words look wrong on screen. they don't feel genuine. don't offer the true satisfaction that i'm looking for in putting my thoughts into words.
and then this morning i came across a video where a woman commented on how she wrote love letters to people she didn't know to help in her own battle with depression.
my mind started spinning. there is something about touching the pen (or pencil or marker or crayon) to paper that is so truly involved and for me... real.
i sobbed when i shattered my wrist. but i completely lost it when i had to check myself out of the hospital and could not sign my own name. the pain could be treated. the pain was easily dealt with (most of the time). but the knowledge that i might not be able to write in my own handwriting again was unbearable.
at that particular point it was still unknown the true extent of my injury. still unknown if i would need surgery. unknown if i would ever regain the use of my wrist and hand. and the unknowing was the worst.
so from that point on i put my all into making it better.
i refused to allow the thought enter my mind that i would never write again. i put my all into trying to find ways to still teach college math without the ability to write on a white board.
sidenote: i might be good at many things in life, but writing (or even attempting to write) with my left hand is not one of those many things.
and i attempted to keep my wrist unmoved so as to best heal the bones.
as with so many things... just because you want them to happen doesn't make them happen. and my bones slipped out of place despite the cast covering my right arm from the midpoint of my fingers past my elbow.
surgery was my all of sudden future. metal holding my bones together. and in my mind... metal now dictating if i would ever be able to write again with pen to paper, marker to board.
looking back on that time i was truly terrified. and to this day i still hesitate when i pick up a writing utensil. still scared that my handwriting will appear different. appear inconsistent. fear still strikes as small bursts of pain surge through my hand and sometimes up through my arm.
but then i put the pen to the paper and the thoughts flow free, unhindered by the appearance they take on via the screens glow. the thoughts feel true. definite. they feel... free.
and then this morning i came across a video where a woman commented on how she wrote love letters to people she didn't know to help in her own battle with depression.
my mind started spinning. there is something about touching the pen (or pencil or marker or crayon) to paper that is so truly involved and for me... real.
i sobbed when i shattered my wrist. but i completely lost it when i had to check myself out of the hospital and could not sign my own name. the pain could be treated. the pain was easily dealt with (most of the time). but the knowledge that i might not be able to write in my own handwriting again was unbearable.
at that particular point it was still unknown the true extent of my injury. still unknown if i would need surgery. unknown if i would ever regain the use of my wrist and hand. and the unknowing was the worst.
so from that point on i put my all into making it better.
i refused to allow the thought enter my mind that i would never write again. i put my all into trying to find ways to still teach college math without the ability to write on a white board.
sidenote: i might be good at many things in life, but writing (or even attempting to write) with my left hand is not one of those many things.
and i attempted to keep my wrist unmoved so as to best heal the bones.
as with so many things... just because you want them to happen doesn't make them happen. and my bones slipped out of place despite the cast covering my right arm from the midpoint of my fingers past my elbow.
surgery was my all of sudden future. metal holding my bones together. and in my mind... metal now dictating if i would ever be able to write again with pen to paper, marker to board.
looking back on that time i was truly terrified. and to this day i still hesitate when i pick up a writing utensil. still scared that my handwriting will appear different. appear inconsistent. fear still strikes as small bursts of pain surge through my hand and sometimes up through my arm.
but then i put the pen to the paper and the thoughts flow free, unhindered by the appearance they take on via the screens glow. the thoughts feel true. definite. they feel... free.




