There is such beauty in the written word. For writers, their art is in the letters they piece together rather than brush strokes. It is the means by which people can express their innermost souls. Entire worlds can be created, shared and explored, and the only limitations are the minds of those that create them. There is a heavy sense of responsibility to accurately portray these thoughts because if not done correctly, the entire essence of a story or opinion can be lost. The exact capturing and portrayal is the challenge writers must face. Their story is living, yet disembodied, dwelling in the misty moor of the mind, and it is their privilege to guide them in and over the threshold. To lure them to safety, capture them delicately and accurately express them in order to give them body for others to read, enjoy and learn from. It is a fine and delicate process, for if these thoughts are grasped too tightly or forced too roughly to give up their tale, that fine mist will dissipate, seeping through the cracks to wander untold throughout the lonely world once more.
For me, writing has always been an incredibly intimate process as it is how I share my deepest feelings, emotions and opinions. Because it is so much of who I am, I have always struggled with sharing this side of me with others and exposing myself to critique or negativity. As humans, we don’t like to show our most vulnerable side to those we don’t know and sometimes even to those who are close to us. However, skills gradually fade if we do not practice them, and if I lost my writing I would lose a very big part of who I am. This is a major reason why I started my blog in the first place. I could not allow my fear of other’s opinions to become a limitation of my self-expression; I have too few mediums at hand to allow for that (we all know just how much creativity I do not possess). Art, dance, music, miming…none of these are within my repertoire so I cling tightly to the written word.
Some of the times that I feel like I understand myself the most is when I am reading back old journal entries or writing assignments. It is like having a map of the path that I took to become who I am today and seeing each phase I went through to build the character I have now. I surprise myself with things I once knew or insights I had but have since forgotten. I shake my head at the stupid decisions I made and the lame justifications I gave for making them. I laugh at the things I thought were so important throughout my teens and early twenties but now see as trifling. I am reminded of some of the hardest times of my life that I have overcome and survived through. My personal writing is especially impactful because it is when I am free to be brutally honest with and about myself. It is hard to ignore my flaws, faulty thinking or mistakes when it is right there on the page in front of me in my sloppy, misspelled handwriting.
Looking back is not always easy and it can be painful to see the mistakes I have made but was not aware of in the moment. Reading how I felt and knowing that I was wrong can be frustrating, but I am thankful for the documentation of those choices and that they have led me to where I am today.
My writing does not have to be brilliant, perfect or profound. It can simply be the organization of my often scattered mind and the tool I use to understand more about myself and this glorious world around me.
“I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn.”