Writing = therapy

I started this blog with the intention of talking about my family, our quirks, and some fitness tidbits sprinkled in. But a few days into this and it has become so much more. It’s therapeutic. I didn’t realize how much I had been holding on to for so long. Anger, guilt, resentment, hostility… sadness.

But having my thoughts in tangible paragraphs – its like my mind is slowly becoming uncluttered. All those memories I had tucked away, I’ve been tiptoeing around them every time I tried to draw on a positive memory. Those events, they just clung to the good ones making it nearly impossible to move forward.

But now, slowly… one by one, my stories come out. And I can think again.

I am realizing that I don’t actually hold anger towards the actual people that these memories pertain to. I am actually able to move past these things. You see, the past is just that: in the past. I cannot be changed, nor can it redefine my present. You, and only you, have the power to CHOOSE how certain events will shape you. You can lay down and play the “woe is me” card. Or… You can get off your ass and let it fuel you. Drive you forward. Nobody needs to be a victim of their circumstances.

I will say, I did go to my mother and ask if I could write about some of these things. Her, being my mother who is loving and supportive of me no matter what, was understanding. She text me after to apologize, to which I clarified – no apology is needed. It’s not like I’m having a breakdown of some sort. I just knew I wanted to write, and these are the subjects to chose to write about. People – especially us mamma bears – do what we think is best in the moment. Regardless of the poor life choices, she was the one who said “I love you” a bazillion times a day, who hugged me, who gave me the freedom to be whatever I needed to be in that moment, to express my feelings, and never – not once – had she ever made me feel like I was anything but perfect. Perhaps, there was some distance and some questionable judgment calls – but she is my mom. And I love her. That will never change.

Of course, there are some people messaging me in a panic. People who fear that I might divulge their secrets or dig up some dirt. As I said previously, my mom never made me feel like I had to bite my tongue. I could always express myself freely without fear of consequences. As much as I think it’s healthy to just say what you need to say, there is – and always will be – the select few who still need their walls up.

My advice to anyone going through something similar: write about it. Make a blog. Record a YouTube video. Talk to someone. Sharing your thoughts and experiences doesn’t make you weak: it makes you relatable and human. Holding it all in just causes more problems than it fixes.

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