I haven’t written for a while because writing has become difficult. I sit here staring at the blank screen and so many words pass by, but so few have been captured by the key strokes or the pen.
It has become a challenge because every night that I go into work, I sit and I type away trying to capture the worst moments of peoples lives. I listen to their fears and as they cry and plead for hope, it is my job to document. To type. To write. To gather information and make sure it gets passed on.
What is the location of your emergency? What is your phone number? What is your name? Can you tell me exactly what has happened? Are there any weapons involved? Do you need medical attention? Are there any drugs or alcohol involved? Which direction did they go? Can I get a description of that individual? The vehicle?
These are the questions that echo onto the page every time I try to write.
I am haunted by the stories that I hear every night. It’s the voices that I cannot escape, even after a week away from the headset.
And yet, here I am writing. It is a struggle to form the words that I type. It is difficult, but we persevere.
Today, I made a conscience choice to write. To choose to use words. To express a struggle. Instead of keeping it hidden in my thoughts.
And honestly, that’s all that I can do at this point. Sometimes that’s all that we can do, put one step in front of the other and make the conscience choice to move forward.