The Frustrations of Becoming a Writer: Embracing without Fear

Ok. I have decided to blog about my journey on embracing my writing and becoming a writer. So many times I have been afraid to pick up my pen or touch type my keys, as I’ve just been afraid to ‘let go’. I’ve seen others who have taken the leap of faith into their creativity, and I feel that I am just sitting on the side kerb, watching the traffic of my creativity speed past me. Why do I feel so frustrated? Why am I procrastinating and giving up my dreams? Why am I fearing this particular journey? Why do I want to run away from the words that I have been forming  and fermenting in my imagination like a ripe mango, waiting to burst, with all the flavour and juices, but still continually beat myself up and tell myself that I cannot do it? What is my creative block that is stopping me?

Only I myself can answer all of my angst ridden questions.  It seems to me that I am self – sabotaging my words, my creativity. I am  taking my words hostage and refusing to open up the recess of my mind and just… write. I have it all planned; I’ve written a few chapters, and I know how this novel will eventually pan out to be, but yet, I have all of these frustrations and fears of becoming a writer. Maybe this small voice that keeps on echoing in my head, like bad audio feedback, is telling me that I need to stop seeking this pasture of creativity. But see, I have always surrounded myself with words. 

Ever since I was small and was able to read books independently, I wanted to write. I wanted to become a journalist, but my mama just looked at me; her eyes just gave me THAT LOOK, and I knew that this was never going to happen in my lifetime. I thought that I had committed a cardinal sin – in fact I had. She either wanted me to become an accountant – which was never going to happen, as I have dyslexia when it comes to figures. I think it's because when dealing with numbers, statistics and everything arithmetical, you are using your left hand side of the brain. I always was in tune with my right side, so this was just a fantasy for my mama. If I wasn’t going to be an accountant, she wanted me to become a doctor. Well, that realisation for me was never going to happen, as I remember when I was young I kept on having repetitive nosebleeds. The sight of blood to my young eyes scared me beyond beyond! My mama only wanted me to fulfill her dreams so she could brag about my professional status. It wasn’t that I was incapable of doing these particular careers, I just was not interested. So, I rebelled.

I used to write in secret. In my diary – there were no blogs when I was younger, as the information age was just a far away star in the constellation, and I was a young girl just wishing on a star. I wanted  to see my words take print and make sense to other girls, who looked like me, who spoke like me and was possibly going through the same growing pains that I was going through. I wanted my writing to be a filter for my life.

Now, I have come to the stage that I will write. I have my writing wings on and I am ready to fly to the next level; to take my impending novel and carve out my own literal landscape. It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t sell; although that would be the icing on the proverbial cake; or if the awards don’t knock down my door ; although a little validation from the world of authors would gently boost my ego; or if it gets repeatedly knocked back  and rejected by publishers; that’s fine with me, I can always self publish it and take my own control, without others dictating to me on how my novel should read. Really, I have to write to survive. That may seem to be a bit dramatic, but it's how I am feeling right now. I feel that this novel that I have deep within me is ready to explode and I  just need to feel the fear, push against my frustration, expel my procrastination and just do it anyway. 

So, everyday, whilst I have the time, I promise to myself that I will at least try to dedicate two to three hours a day to my writing; something that I am guilty of not adhering to. But I will not be beating myself up, as LIFE sometimes takes over and so it may be impossible to do these hours.

One of the things about writing consistently, is that you have to be disciplined. I need to be disciplined in my creativity and also disciplined in writing this novel. I never want to be in a position in my own life and have regrets when it comes to writing this novel. I have made too many regrets on this wondrous journey, however, I have packed them away and placed them in a suitcase and  wheeled them away on an eternal vacation. 

For me, to be disciplined means that I will have the freedom to write authentically, clearly, joyfully, with abundance, freedom and with love. I see discipline in this context differently and this is something that I have to always have in mind when I get out my pen or pound on my keystrokes to take on the oncoming chapters in my novel.

So, yes, my fears and frustrations still present deep within. But what I need to do is turn these negative qualities into just words, where they will, in their own paradoxical way, keep on liberating me and where I can finally cancel out these feelings that are stopping me from fully embracing the real authentic me.

The Knowing: True Realisation

When I looked into his eyes, I saw my past, present and future.

We had such a bond, that I was fearful that the baggage I might have unconsciously carried from past relationships may tip my harmonious feelings into imbalance.

See, it started six years ago. I was at an apex in my life where I knew what I wanted in a relationship. I knew that I wasn’t going to find a spiritual or humble man in the domains of a social setting, where nicotine and alcohol induced fumes were mandatory. Where the pretentious ones gathered like a winding mass of uncertainty and insecure beings, looking for their next fix for one up man ship. I also knew that I had outgrown that scene. I was like a caterpillar who was seeking my own personal metamorphosis, and most importantly, I hadn't sought desperation in a long time solution of finding a man who could complete me. I was already completed. I just wanted to find my other half. Paradoxical, I know, but I felt that something was truly missing in my life. I wasn't looking to compromise at all. I just knew deep within the alcove of my mind what I wanted in a man. A strong man. I am not only talking about strength, but one where we could go the extra mile together, instead of pursuing separate agendas. Somebody who would not feel intimidated about me. Somebody who I could just be ME with; to liberate the mask that I have kept on for so many years in past relationships.

No, I was sure of what I wanted. But how was I to get to the crucial point of manifestation of a stable, spiritual, humble and honest counterpart?

Meditation and prayer sustained me in my elusive search. However, this in the long run did not keep me company - especially when I needed somebody to be my own cheerleading section. Yes, the responses I got from prayer and meditation were satisfying, but I was impatient for the manifestation to take place. I was weary of the hollow echoes that were filling my space. When would it happen? How would it happen? Would it take me by surprise? Or would it be something that be staring at me, right in the pupils of my complacent gaze?

I looked to modern technology, where I decided to become one of the millions of people out there, who utilised the cyber community to elicit a meeting of minds. Ha! Who did I think I was kidding? But I thought I’d give it a try.

Initially, I was fearful, but I kept on telling myself that fear would just leave me in the same position as before; lonely and continually searching for that elusive mate and counterpart Nonetheless, I decided to take the ultimate chance and put myself out there. I felt like the lone woman, you know, who is hanging on the ledge, waiting to take that drop and not knowing what I would see or how I would feel after I took that leap. I was stepping into the realms of the unknown. I had no idea of what type of responses I would elicit, but I decided to embrace my fears and do it anyway.

I was so glad I did.

Our meeting was inevitable. It wasn't even planned. He was my destiny and I was his. As soon as we started communicating together we spoke at union; in one voice. His struggles and challenges became my struggles and challenges. His future and what he wanted became twinned with mine. His lyrical accent reminded me of natural landscapes and his laugh was like a cool bubbling stream; it cleansed away all of the negative baggage that I carried in the past when it came to relationships. It was  around this time that I finally forgave my father for abandoning me. I was able to see the link on how I used to carry around this anger, like the well worn piece of cloth I used to carry as a young child for comfort; my security blanket. The tapestry that I embroidered with my hurt and disappointment with my father started to gradually fade away, and the colours of my threads became brighter and clearer.

His presence was so on. We meshed together like rice and peas. Egusi soup and pounded yam. He is my yin and I am his yan. We balance each other out like well oiled scales. Sometimes the scales tip more towards him and sometimes they tip towards me. We can have misunderstandings and sometimes our communication can be perplexing like a scientist trying out his first formula. But in the end, we are harmony and unity.



Now, six years later, after a lot of struggles, challenges, upheavals, envy from external forces, we will be joining in matrimony. Soon. Very soon. The whisper of our unification will come from spirit; it's gotten louder and our ears have pricked up eagerly to this whisper - but all in good time. We knew when our time would near. We knew to be patient and ask spirit to continually guide us and protect us on this sometimes tumultuous journey. However, the most vital in all of this knowing, he knows, I know, and our celebration will be a joyous occasion, shared with only folk who were there with us, unconditionally. Together with new and wondrous people that I have met recently.
I could say that our love was written in the stars, but that sounds a bit trite. So, let me just say that our evolving status, our undeniable oneness is scribed from the ancients. We knew each other before we even knew each other.



Here's to both of us, when we will be rocking in our identical rocking chairs; hands entwined so that the deep brown lines on our palms match up; soft smiles glowing on our upturned faces; caused by the splendid heat; sipping on our homemade sorrel; on our porch; in our promised land.



That's the knowing; that's the true realisation of what we have been through and how we have gathered strength, like moss on a stone, through all of this we have purified what it means to be with L*O*V*E.