A New Language

For the past month (okay, the past year), I have found it really difficult to write. Journaling, blogging, creative writing: it has all seemed forced and dry and just, well, not good. No matter how long I sit in front of the computer, no matter how much I try to discipline myself to write every day or even once a week for that matter, I still come up with nothing. As someone who used to benefit emotionally from writing, this has been an incredibly frustrating time. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why my inspiration had seemed to dry up, why words no longer flooded my brain like they used to. But I think I figured it out today.

                In the last year, my life has undergone a dramatic shift. In the past my story has been marked by struggles, both personally and relationally. Personally in the form of depression and feelings of inadequacy, and relationally in the form of family issues and fear of social interaction. But things have changed and in the last year I have found healing and happiness. In this time I have been depression-free, I have learned how to love myself, I have found stability in relationships, and I am seeing the world as a brighter place.

As I was reading for class I came across this passage. “Language is the way we create worlds; it’s what we do to make a culture, whether that is North American culture or the culture of a local church or denominational system. When we suddenly find ourselves in this confusing new space, the language that had worked so well to this point no longer matches the reality around us. We are disoriented and confused. In this new space we need time and processes to help us begin to articulate what we are experiencing in order to develop the language we need to make sense of where we find ourselves”  (Introducing the Missional Church, pg. 142). And suddenly it all made sense.

I don’t have a language for happiness. I know how to express fear, anxiety, and confusion, but I don’t know how to talk about contentment and joy and love. Writing used to be so simple because I knew how to talk about pain and darkness. I knew how to describe the heavy-headedness of depression and exhaustion. But I don’t know how to talk about triumph and optimism. I don’t know how to describe Mia’s laugh or the way Adam makes me feel. I don’t have a language for this new place in my life and that’s why writing is so hard for me right now.