The written voice of your heart and soul can be more powerful than your spoken words.
Writing used to be a very private hobby of mine. I spent hours carefully handwriting entries of stories and poems into pretty, leather bound journals and diaries, knowing that they were my own private thoughts. Knowing that no one else would read them.
I recall a time when I was married, my then husband found a journal of mine and picked it up, when I wasn’t home. He spent hours reading through every page, and I came home to a very angry and hurt husband. I had no idea what his issue was, until I saw my private book, perched on the coffee table, in front of him. My heart sank, and I felt instantly betrayed. He was angry, as he took every hand scribed word personally.
I was stunned at the lack of respect of my privacy and the fact that I had to defend myself for my own discrete coping mechanism.
A long, heated argument ensued, following his preview of my private thoughts and creative pieces. I don’t think I ever forgave him for reading it. It felt as though the ONE private part of my soul was raped and exposed without my consent.
At the time, I was going through a lot of turmoil in my life. I knew that I had married him before I should have. I was still dealing with trauma from previous relationships, and from growing up in a family of addiction, abuse and violence. My writing reflected my rage, pain and torture and he had no idea what I had been going through. He blamed himself.
I also wrote about my feelings toward sex, my hatred toward myself, and REAL RAW emotions that fluctuated between bliss and torment from one day to the next. I had been dealing with undiagnosed depression and anxiety then, as well as brutal PMS. Neither of us had any idea that I had such deep mental health issues, but it sure showed in my writing.
To this day, I look back on some of the poems and stories I wrote as an angsty, anxiety ridden, dark young lady, and they chill me to the bone.
With that said, I have also made a few self discoveries. I have discovered that I can write. Sometimes I write very descriptively and delve into chambers of my soul that are actually quite chilling. Other days, I write fluff pieces that make me laugh quietly to myself, and put out there, knowing I may very well be the only one who reads it. Either way, I know that I can use writing as a form of release, and my own artful way of expression. It makes me feel good. It helps me feel useful, and it gets my creativity rolling.
Now that I have made the decision to write on MEDIUM, some days are a struggle. Not because I know that it does open my thoughts up to a whole new level of readers, but because it is an extension of ME. My words are always a part of my heart and soul, regardless of whether its a story, poem, or blog. It is ME.
My thoughts and emotions are plastered on a screen that complete strangers read, and somehow, I have learned to be okay with it. I am not sure if that is a part of maturity? Or if I have just tapped into a piece of myself that I am willing to share. Maybe, it’s the fact that I just don’t care who reads my heart anymore. Take it or leave it, this is me.
The one lesson I have learned from becoming a writer is that YOU NEED TO WRITE FROM THE HEART. You NEED to attach emotions or the words mean nothing. It’s akin to reading a manual to a new vacuum cleaner, if there is no emotional value. No one likes to read manuals. They are dry and boring, and although you may learn how to maintain your new vaccuum cleaner, you don’t walk away feeling anything from it.
Good writing contains pieces of the writer. Good writing makes the reader FEEL and want to read more, to feel more.
Looking back at my journals and diaries now, I wish that I would have had the balls to somehow put those emotions out there. Maybe I wouldn’t have felt so violated when my ex husband invited himself to read them. The fact that he had such strong feelings from words I wrote on paper speaks volumes. I ignited him to feel! I put my hatred and loathing, and often scathing words on paper, and HE FELT IT. Perhaps, if I had been more prepared to share that side of me with him, we would still be married…
Vulnerability is something that every writer must be able to share, in order to communicate and evoke feelings in our readers. Being vulnerable means that your anger, love, passion, distaste, mistrust and sadness are laid out in words that reach whoever is reading your work. Perhaps you don’t ALWAYS feel the way that you have narrated, but at that moment in time, as you send the words out to the world of readers, the imagery in your mind held that emotion. It becomes a matter of whether or not you are okay with others feeling what you share.
It has taken me many years of private thoughts and writings, to get a place where I am okay with sharing myself. Writing, in many ways has become my Muse, my outlet and my release.Writing has opened new doors for me and has restarted a fire that was extinguished when I felt it was snuffed from my heart. Medium has taken my journey to a whole new world. Love me, or hate me, I am here. I am real. This is me.