Journal #6

My preferred method of verbal communication has always been in the form of writing. When I was younger, I learned about different forms of poetry and somewhere along the line, I fell in love with writing.

Essays and poetry are how I communicate best with the world. They’re how I communicate my deepest feelings with myself. For me, it’s a form of therapy. I may write on one hard thing in my life 1,000 times, in very different ways; mainly for myself, but I also hope someone, somewhere in the world is better because of it. I remember when I was younger, I’d wake up, turn over and just start writing an entire poem before I could fall back asleep.

When I graduated high school, I had an entire binder full of poetry spanning from the age of 12-17. I’ll admit, most of it was pining or whining over some boy that didn’t even notice I existed, but I also begged my father to quit drinking, addressed early signs of self-harm and spoke up about a friend of mine being sexually assaulted.

By the time I finally started college- at the age of 32, I had even more chapters of my life eternally encapsulated in words. I’d written about my divorce, depression, the birth of my youngest daughter, a few abusive relationships, my feelings of inadequacy, my child’s very traumatic car accident and many many broken hearts.

I’m the first to admit that I will often put my foot in my mouth when nervously speaking to people, but when I sit down and write all of the things my mind knows no other way to process, I am a master at it.