A Crazed Aching

Having taken a few days away from writing, I found myself yesterday with this aching feeling, an anxious feeling that was nearly as though I had gulped too much coffee.  It manifested as sort of a twitching in my arms and chest, and at times I felt as though I couldn’t get enough air in my lungs regardless of how deeply I inhaled and how forcefully I exhaled. One word banged around in my brain to the point of about giving me a migraine: write.

But I was barely near a computer all day.  I had errands, I had appointments, I had obligations.  It wasn’t until late in the evening that I returned home and had the time to sit and drain from my head and muscles the energy that was inflicting such discomfort all day long.  I wrote.  In the famous words of Red Smith, I opened a vein.  It was cathartic, like a long overdue kiss from the one you love; like a satisfying meal when you’ve not eaten for days. I wrote for four straight hours and didn’t get to bed until after 2:00 in the morning. The crazed aching in my body subsided as I emptied it into ideas which shaped themselves into a story. The relaxation I felt after was total and consuming.  I slept more soundly than I have for weeks.

Of course, I had to be up at 6:30 to get to work by 8:00.  That part hurts a little, but it was so worth the missing sleep.  Sleep is overrated if you ask me.

The amazing part of it was to discover this morning, when I had finished class and had a chance to review the purging from the night before, what I’ve got is pretty good.  It’s not perfect, but it is a solid foundation from which I can build this story, and it moves in directions that are surprising and believable. 

The muscles in my arms and chest are not so jumpy today, though as I write this, part of me says “Hurry up!” I’ve got work to do, and I need to take advantage of this wave I’m riding.

Advertisements

One thought on “A Crazed Aching

  1. lisamm says:

    At first it sounded like you were describing a panic attack. I might have called 911!

    I write for pleasure, and if I don’t write for a while I feel “backed-up”, like a clogged drain. It’s a similar feeling to how I feel when I don’t see my best friend for a week or two–conversationally backed-up in that case. I need that release of ideas, thoughts, and emotions that I can only get through her, or through writing. My husband teases me and says, “Nothing is real to you until you tell Carrie about it.” Or until I write about it.

    I’m going to peruse your blog a bit to see what it is you write about!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s