Writing as a Way to Purge

Lake Huron Shore During a Storm

When emotions become overwhelming I turn to an outlet.  My mind has learned to grab a way to purge.  To let out those storming feelings out before I explode for lack of space in this body.  "Purge" sounds negative.  Like I have to get rid of garbage from myself.  It's not always negative.  I find myself with the "exploding" kind of feelings when an exciting, joyful or deeply satisfying time is filling me up.  But, as we all know, it usually is the negative that eats us up if we don't take control.

The first definition at Dictionary.com is: 

Rainbow in Ireland

to rid of whatever is impure or undesirable; cleanse; purify.

My definition is: to rid of whatever smothers normal thought processes; to control what is overpowering normal thought; to Oxi-clean, to reboot, to redirect.

The quickest outlet I find to purge is to write.  I don't have to get ready to walk in nine degree tempts and icy roads.  I don't have to get my painting supplies out of the basement.  I don't have to get the whole wheat flour and bread-making supplies out.  I don't have to locate my dust mask or my work clothes.  I don't have to search for a thick, well-written novel.  I don't have to tune up my guitar and sing a song someone else has written. I don't have to thread a bobbin on a borrowed sewing machine.  I don't have to grab the closest Kleenex box and find a private place to cry.  I don't have to be immobilized and scared of my thoughts.

Small Boat in Ireland

Writing makes me focus.  My thoughts don't seem as haphazard and undisciplined.  I actually come to grips with my thoughts instead of getting angry at them, repressing them, dressing them up, arguing with them, feeding them chocolate, or punishing them with self-criticism.

When I read what I've written,  my thought processes make more sense to me.  I can untangle some thoughts that keep bouncing off of each other and causing a commotion. I have a feeling of looking in the hole from the outside, rather than looking out from the hole I feel trapped in.  The hole I refer to is the mental state of depression.  I don't like to use the word myself.  It labels something too huge to try to capture in one word.  It also scares the crap out of me because it's considered a mental illness.  December was "Mental Illness Awareness Month" and NPR had plenty of segments on this topic.  I like to be informed, but I don't want the stigma of being crazy by label.  I'd rather be crazy in my techniques of purging.  

So, I write.  And when I find a picture that tells part of the story, I include it with my writing.  I watch people and know they have their ways of hiding their exploding emotions.  I love to watch someone cook like they're creating a masterpiece on canvas.  Or someone hitting the pavement to run, one foot in front of the other until they're exhausted.  I've watched people crawl up inside themselves while they're watching T.V. and hide behind the blinking of their eyelids.  I know someone who just gets in his car and drives and drives. No destination, just keeping on with the forward movement.  I've never considered these signs of mental illness.  I see them as ways of coping. Surviving.  But, I have learned to think about what triggers my need to purge.  Writing seems to connect me to other human beings.  And connecting seems to shrink my fears to a size I can handle.

I'd never say I know the answers.  I can say I won't ever give up looking for them.  Even if it means getting professional help and searching for some new strategies to cope when I feel the need to purge.  I won't quit walking, painting, reading, making bread, working, sewing, crying or singing.  They are a part of my arsenal of coping.  But, it's nice to write and know someone is out there in Blog-land listening.

Sometimes I wish there was a ritual that could help me purge.  I imagine a sweat-lodge where I could go and be comfortable with my feelings with others sitting quietly by my side.

The Landslide

Or a stream I could sit with someone until the motion of water helped sooth away my negative feelings.  I could rest and patiently wait for my fears to dissapate.