I began writing at an early age when my mother
bought my first journal. My handwriting
wasn’t the best, but I enjoyed journaling.
I could sit in my room with my flowery felt journal and write about my
fears, joys and concerns. It soon became
a nightly ritual. This was a ritual that
I would continue as I got older when my fears and concerns seemed to plague me
more frequently. It also was a time when
I learned that writing had become my own private therapy session.
My writing as a child was filled with the
concerns of a child. I was a peculiar
little girl. I loved to write and read
when my peers were playing dolls. My
time was spent reading about Princess Diana and writing in my journal wishing
that I could meet her. I was also not
much of a talker and rather shy because of teasing from kids in the
neighborhood. The taunts were the usual
you’re fat, stupid and ugly. My feeling
often was hurt rather easily because I could not understand why others did not
love me as my parents loved me. There
were times that I could not talk to my mom in words about the teasing, so her
advice was I could write her a letter.
Her advice also worked in my coping skills with being teased when I was
a child. The teasing was simple, but it
hurt all the same. It was hard for me to
understand why others hurt me and didn’t love me when my parents love me
unconditionally. I started to create my
own world through writing short stories.
In my stories I was able to do what I was
unable to do in real like. My life was
filled in adventures that where a little girl could be anything she wanted to
be in life. I was a princess, figure
skater and a gymnast. My room was a
mecca of make believe through writing and acting out. In my pink walls that were my bedroom of
sacred space I was loved outside of my parents love. I cherished the love of my parents, but my
desire to have that best girlfriend would sometimes be overwhelming. I was a deeply feeling little girly that grew
up to be an even more so young lady.
My
life in high school became more of a creative time for me. In high school I was still awkward socially
and continued to escape through my love for reading and writing. My escape into reading took me to the world
of royal love matches. For example, I
read about King Henry VIII and his six wives and the love story and scandal of
Charles and Diana. I added another
outlet through music and marching band.
I found my group of peers and a best friend that I have now known for
over 25, years. There were times when I
didn’t need these coping methods, but I would be tested once more in the ways
that I would once more need to express my fears, concerns and joys. I wish I could focus on the joys, but the
trials of life are what make life worth living.
I
met my ex-husband when I was working as a pharmacy tech. He was nice, charming, loving, and
sweet. We were good together and married
in July of 2001. When we came home as
husband and wife his guard quickly faded.
I thought that I could cope. We were
not having fun anymore and among my worries if things were going to get better
I became pregnant with my son. In the
mist of this unsure thing that I had with my ex-husband I had a son that I
loved unconditionally. My writing was
starting to creep into my life because I needed to be heard even if I were the
only reader. I finally noticed that my
voice was once again silent after the birth of my daughter. I would talk with my girl friends who were
substitutes for the confidant that I needed from my ex-husband. My journal writing got me away from the
sometimes constant emotional abuse. I
made to feel degraded by never feeling good enough and the constant questioning
of choices that I would make. These
questions would turn into insults that never seemed to stop. I would cave and do what he need of me, yet I
walked on egg shells through most of my ten year marriage. The two things that I was able to keep stable
were my relationship with my children and my journal writing. In this moment in my life it was therapy. When I was free from feeling trapped I would
still continue to write. I needed to
heal and think freely. This ability to
heal and think freely through journal writing works really well for me. My writing was only journaling. I have
learned that I have a voice and now blog about my hopes as a mom and a citizen
of the United States.
When I write I can scream, curse, be
angry and eventually be at peace with my path in life. I was at peace with myself when I was blessed
with my husband and step children. This
peace has continued because now I write with the happiness of being joyful with
my new life.
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