In this notebook I write about myself but this has only been able to happen because I've accepted every single piece of my life puzzle. I used to hate my past - it was filled with hurt and betrayal. There was so many things I rejected about myself and so many things that I had happened to me that I couldn't physically acknowledge. There was always half the puzzle and there was all the other pieces I put in the box. I didn't want to see them again and I wouldn't acknowledge them as part of me. They were all small parts of who I'm and fit somewhere within me. Essentially without those pieces I had holes that I could fill with nothing else no matter how hard I tired or pretended they weren't there. I lived in denial of those pieces. They had so much emotional, mental and physical power over me. All I wanted to do was hide them and yet they never left me wherever I went. I felt their burden even if they didn't stalk or patrol the corridors of my mind. I thought myself powerless to their dictatorship and I always assumed that they'd be with me forever. One day that changed.
I started to think positively about myself and about all that had been. It was a turbulent and sad story but so what. It was my story. I think it was the moment I claimed ownership of that story I began to see myself different. The past no longer had control over me. There was no soldiers patrolling my mind. I could tell because when I thought about my past and its events - it no longer troubled me and it no longer brought me to a sense of betrayal. I though of all the things that had happened and all the things I had survived. It was my history and no more then that. It was something that I owned not that owned me. My past didn't define me and it didn't defy me. The past died and nothing is able to resurrect it - or change that. Its like the wars in which people died and their deaths can't be undone. I learned that I shouldn't live in the past and I shouldn't re-live it every single day. I believe that was the moment I realised that as much as I had hated it, it was the very thing who made me exactly who I'm. It probably seems and sounds very simple and straight forward but the emotional and physical journey isn't like that and rather its like a snake shedding its old skin. I had to shed off my past and not let it suffocate the life out of me. The life I had preserved all the way through depression.
Once I made this journey and gone through the shedding somehow without realising it, the past started to pour on the page. I came to it in many different ways - I opened my mind and let things float around. I caught those floating memories one after the other and put them on the page. I started with one and then I had pages. It wasn't therapy writing - no it was simply poetry about my past. The things I had seen, felt and heard. I was taking myself back to the roads I had long ago walked on. I remembered many things and unearthed things I didn't know I had in me. Memories that I didn't consciously know that I had and I surprised myself. I made those ideas into poetry I wrote sometimes as the child living in the moment and at others as myself reflecting within. They are all still only contained in the notebook I wrote them in.
What I've been doing lately is connecting with my past. I didn't really know what I was doing. One day after an exercise in my creative writing class we were set a task to free write (in the present tense) a moment or several moments we remember from our young adult years. Of course I wrote about depression since It occupied my young adult wholly and spanned beyond that as well. It was a powerful moment - when I wrote about myself and I felt good. Not in a selfish way but in the way that I wasn't denying myself of what had been and by putting pen to paper I was acknowledging that. I wasn't keeping my past silent I was giving it recognition and I was saying this has happened to me and this is who I'm. Its a moment I'm never going to forget. I might have already forgotten the date and the day but not the moment. After this I made a list for myself about things I wanted to write about (that had occurred to me during my young adult years) and I did. I wrote and I came up with more things I could write about and I did write. It was powerful and it felt intense. I read it to myself after. I was connecting with things inside me and accepting all the parts that I had kept in the box. I let them fall into space. Indeed after having written these I had courage and power to connect with even more deeply with things. Its like all the barriers I had put on myself were destroyed and I felt no shame or no denial. There was no hint of these elements within me and I wrote with my pen constantly on the page - my mind didn't try to cut anything out. My mind didn't go back on itself and correct me. My mind didn't tell me that I shouldn't write these things - Instead I felt my body tell me that I should write them and I should keep going. That was what I did and shall keep doing as long as I feel that need within me.
I'm not embrassed to tell you what I wrote about in this notebook of mine. I wrote about friendship, falling out, bullying, crush (in reference to boys), self expression, violence and fighting (at my high school), sex and dreams (those in the night time). Those are some of the things I wrote about. My pen didn't leave the page and I didn't tell myself off. Sometimes I read what I wrote afterwards but as of my last entries I've not read those yet. I feel that there's so much that I have to get down - an impulse and an instinct to get to the notebook and get it on the page that I have no time to read what I've written. I can also say that I keep making lists and well if something entries my mind It wouldn't be long before I get it down on the page.