Several years ago while going through a traumatic ordeal, there were many losses. Not just losses of people and relationships, of health and well-being and of a daily life I had worked hard to create over many years. In many ways the even bigger losses were the losses of Self. Those intangible things that make us, 'us'.
So many small and large things make up the us that we are. Who we feel we are, how we think, how we feel about things, how we perceive the life around us. The list of these intangible things is endless, but when taken together as one whole, you have one 'me'. And any and every one of those aspects of Self can be affected in some way by trauma or hardship in some form. Every one of them.
For me, one of the biggest losses was of my love for, and more importantly, my ability to write. Though it is not an ability I had given much thought to over the years, I did know that I loved it, felt the need to express through written words and also felt called to help in some way through them as well. It was just 'part of me'. One I am sure I took very much for granted.
However, there was a day when the words left me. Not because I had nothing to say. In fact, my deep need to express was the deepest it had ever been. And not because I didn't want to write, although literally trying to simply stay alive and make it through each day physically definitely changed up writing's position in the priority category.
No, what I lost was the actual ability to write. Yes, I could still spell and understand what I was writing, but I could no longer put together complex thoughts, nuanced thoughts or connect to whatever those silent mechanisms are that bring idea or concept to articulation and expression. Somehow due to the physical trauma my body had been through and the psychological impact of same, that mysterious highway of self-expression became deeply and nearly fully blocked. The loss of it felt profound, and deeply scary, and it was then that I realized what an important part of 'me' writing and written expression was. That part of myself became nearly unavailable in its entirety to me, and has taken literally years to come back.
And it is not fully back yet. I can feel places where roads (thoughts) still do not connect in their entirety and I have to take byways and other roads to express something. I still have to travel some different roads to get my thoughts out; ways that are not fully my 'norm' but get the job done.
But at least now, I trust that as time goes on and I continue to heal all of the parts of myself that were touched and altered by that very difficult time, the words will someday fully return. And with them, those subtle pieces of 'me' they hold within them.