Writing As A Cure

Photo from pixabay.com/jarmoluk

Ryan recently sent me an article, Writing Your Way to Happiness, that I found fascinating. I, personally, used to love to write and felt like it was one of my greatest strengths, but in recent years I've found myself dreading to write, whether it was research papers or jotting down journal entries (which I definitely haven't done consistently throughout the years).

I used to work in a tutoring center for students with dyslexia and although I don't have dyslexia myself, I felt that this was probably how they felt sometimes. They were all very bright with a variety of interests, but when they were asked to write down those things it was sometimes a painful process. My situation was a little different where my struggle was that I just despised the process of finding the right words to convey my thoughts and theories. I found writing very frustrating and didn't feel like I had enough patience with myself the things that went through my head. After reading the article a couple of nights I ago, I laid down in bed and started wondering if this would help me - to write down my personal narrative and then rewrite it.

Initially, I was excited about starting this writing experiment, but then I started to feel discouraged that I wouldn't be able to follow through and keep it a consistent habit. I then thought about all of the times that I tried to start journaling and all of the times I've failed to write more than a mere paragraph about my day. Why was I struggling with something that I valued so much? Then it finally clicked! I remembered how I used to journal when I was in high school and how much I enjoyed the process, but then I remember re-reading my journals after a couple of months and being so embarrassed of myself, experiences, and thoughts. I would rip out those pages even though they contained some important memories, because I just couldn't handle how public these things were, even if I was the only one reading them. I felt vulnerable and naked to have these private and personal entries out in the open on those pages. I couldn't hide them unless I just disposed of them, so I did. And that, alas, is why I can't seem to stay consistant with my writing. It's scary to open up and display those fears, but I've decided that this is an important step I need to take. I need to get over my trepidation even if it means that I need to accept myself as I am.

Love, Mailee