Exploring Writer's Block

What happens when you can no longer find the words? When the language that once rioted against your teeth and slicked your tongue wet with longing, has disappeared? What happens when vowels drop like heavy stones and you are left with only the rough grunts of consonants? What happens when there is no language for all that needs to be said and unsaid?

For the past few weeks, I’ve experienced immense/intense/debilitating writer’s block. I’ve gotten stuck on adjectives, unsure of which to use; my words are craggy and lacking and unable to get to the heart of a thing. I close my eyes, rub my face, inhale deeply, exhale forcefully, and nothing comes. I cry, groan, rock, sigh, and nothing comes.

There is both too much going on and not enough going on.

I sit at the same desk every day, staring at the same computer screen, feeling the same feelings: depleted, numb, dissatisfied. I struggle to focus at work; my heart is not in it. I am confused by the smallest of nuances/intricacies; I am convinced I am dumb. I do less and less. I cry often and quietly. I curl into the nook of my office, pressing against the yellow wall, once my favorite color, now a reminder of jaundice and rot.

And at the same time, my mind whirs constantly with the turmoil that I’m in. There is so much to say. The air hangs heavy with nostalgia; the silence echoes conversations that have long since faded away. I am entangled in a web of emotions, unable to express them, resorting to clichés and platitudes. I am treading rough waters, gulping seawater, gasping, reaching for some sort of salvation. My heart slams against the lid of the dark; I am unraveling.

I feel like nothing without words. I am lost and confused, a shell of myself.

What do you do when you can’t find the words? When even all of this says only a fraction of how you are feeling?

Thank you for being here. Your presence is a grounding force. xx