Healing with Writing

 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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