I write because there are words that get caught up in my head and are bursting to come out. I write because I am going through experiences I desperately want to share. I am writing because I have so much to tell you that I cannot wait.
I write not because I want to but because I must! I don't always love writing, but when the words get caught up and spill out, I need to sit down and put them in order like a puzzle. I need to see my feelings processed with words.
Verbal processing is excellent! I am thankful for my friends and husband, who listen to me ramble. But I don't ramble much. As an Enneagram 1, I feel. I feel deeply. I think—a lot. I marinate, and I muse. Somehow, "My Monday Marinade" sounded more like a cooking blog hence "musings."
Somedays, when thoughts flood into my head, I type them onto the Notes app of my phone because one, I am terrified I will lose them, and two, they just need to get out of my head.
Have I always been a writer? I am not sure yet. True, I did write many creative essays in high school and even dabbled in poetry, but nothing much came of it. I would say I started writing seriously about two years ago. But last month, I received an email from a blog I started seven years ago. I had forgotten all about it. Reading it made me cry. I felt sad for the girl who had so much to say and tried hard to say it eloquently and with some wisdom.
Well, that girl was now seven years older and hopefully a little wiser. So, she decided to keep writing. Many people have gone before me and have had great success with writing. I don't think I am looking for success with my words. Or whatever success means. If writing allows me to share a little bit of who I am with my corner of the world and makes you smile, I also smile. I have shared a little of myself with you. And I think I'm a decent person, average, reasonably sound of mind so you might enjoy my company. At least for a little while.
What I love about writing is that I can be me. I don't have to be someone else for the world. I can say what I want, and hopefully, I will say it kindly. As a third culture kid who also happens to be an Indian immigrant to the United States, I have days where I wonder who exactly I am. I don't always know. I am Indian, but I am also an ex-pat; parts of me are American, but inside me lives an Anglophile ( remnants of colonial India). I am so many things and have no real roots in any country. I can find belonging anywhere and nowhere.
So, I write. I don't always know what I am going to write about. Somedays, I might have a topic, a lesson God taught me, wisdom I have learned from the world or people around me, or on other days, it just might be me sharing my musings with you readers. I sure hope I have some readers! Every writer fears that no one will ever read what they wrote!
I did not plan to write today. I call it "my Monday musings," but most of the time, those musings get written on a Friday. But today was a day filled with feelings. Emotions ran high, and while cooking dinner, the words started to spill into my head, so while the chicken was cooking in the oven, I had time to write. I think most of the words are finally out now. Whew! They won't be rattling around in my head for the rest of the night.
Writing is soul work. I think a tiny piece of my soul is in everything I write, but it is also satisfying, so I will keep writing and sharing.
If you have made it to the end of this ramble, THANK YOU!! Thank you for taking the time to come on this journey with me! I appreciate your patience and hope I have left you smiling or shaking your head sadly at the happenings inside my head!