Throughout my life my mom has always wrote things down, capturing each moment so it didn’t get lost in a memory. What the weather was like, who came for a visit, who had a baby, birthday or who was taken too soon. If it happened my mom wrote it down.
My dad was also a writer but his writing was different yet effective and useful. He would make lists of what needed to be done and meticulously cross each item off as it was completed. This was a great tool to remember to get things done and a good recall for timeline. Dalton still shares stories of the lists and ‘If it ain’t on the list, it ain’t happening!’
I don’t actually remember ever not writing, I’ve done it my whole life. I loved writing poems and recall 2 in particular; one about my dog Toby and and one about Kenny. They are so silly as I look back now but in that moment it was a capture of my heart.
Writing is healing for me, from the inside out. A way to sort my heart stuff and my head stuff, a way to to a aknowledge, understand and process and a beautiful way to remember and look back.
The idea of ‘Don’t read page 52.’ came from a time when I wrote my deepest and perhaps darkest thoughts. A time where I felt I could not outwardly express what I was going through but knew it could not remain inside me as it would eat me alive. I recall feeling shame for the things taking up space in my mind. I chose to write every thought, every detail, every feeling as if to release it to the universe rather than let it wear me down. Although I’ll never forget that time, I’m also free from the hold it had on me.
I love it when my writing awakens things in others or when it makes you wonder, dig deep or when something resonates with you. In December Kathleen asked to share something I wrote.
Some days I visit page 52 but writing helps me to not live there. 💛
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