words are not enough

There’s a shocker.

For a writer to say words are not enough.

But, it’s true. I love writing. It’s my compass, my grace, my touchstone – to be part of that creation process. But, there’s the rub. It’s a process. And, when there’s an immediate need to express emotions – experience them raw and untouched – the process of fixing words on a page … like a captured photo's emergence … just doesn’t cut it.

(wonder what my writer friends will say about this one)

This week at work, an opportunity presented itself for me to get re-acquainted with frustration. I don’t usually want to shake people, gently or violently, but I literally had an internal dialogue concluding that “shaking someone” would not be perceived as professional.

As luck would have it, I had kickboxing class that night.

Everyone should take kickboxing. Especially women.

Early early on, women are taught not to use force. As girls, no one dares us in the backyard to fling things as hard as we can, to punch each other in the stomach and see if we can take it. And, yet, there’s something very powerful about knowing your own strength. Knowing you’re even capable of strength.

Three years ago, when I started kickboxing, I tentatively threw punches into the air. Now, I don’t leave class unless I’m out of breath, completely dripping with sweat, and have slammed my elbow, knee or fist into a punching pad so hard that it hurts -- just a little.

The other night, our instructor decided we needed a good workout. Combinations. Jab, left uppercut elbow, right downward elbow, double knee, then finish it off with a roundhouse kick -- using your core muscles to pivot your shin into a kicking pad. And, because of the kind of day I had, I delivered my strikes as hard as I could.

I didn’t want to diffuse the frustration. I wanted to use it. To know it was real, so I don’t disguise it as a bad day or my own emotionality. That frustration was present and consequently, I am so sore today, it hurts to laugh.

It’s a good reminder, this pain … a reminder of what I don't want to experience again.

Pain has its purpose too.