As a Recreation Therapist, I use experiential learning to lead people to healing. I help in the healing process of other people, and yet I don't take the time to heal myself. I do pretty well at grinning and bearing it until someone asks me questions about my life. And too many people have had the experience of hearing me complain or be depressing when explaining my life. I really haven't taken the time to let myself heal from things in my past. Yet, somehow, I had a healing experience this year because of something that I have taken the time to do over years and years of my life.
Over the course of 18 years, I have written in 14 journals (granted some of them could probably be combined because my handwriting was huge as a 10-year-old). I love journals. About ever other year, I ask for a journal for Christmas. That Christmas present will get used guaranteed.
During the middle of this year, I decided to read through all of my journals. It was quite entertaining. I am such a weird kid. And I apologize to anyone who knew me between the ages of 10 and 13. I was just awkward. Not that I'm not awkward now, but that awkwardness is just embarrassing, and I am so glad that I have changed my ways.
Reading through all of my journals was very eye-opening. And I had a few weeks of depression while I was reading through it because there is some tough stuff in there. Literally, the picture below is one of my journals.
That sticky note has been on there for years, and yet I did not heed the warning. It was rough. And I learned some things that have been holding me back for years. I got to re-experience things that I had terrible memories of, and in my journal, I had written positive feelings and/or pure and simple facts. I realized that I had been beating myself up and blaming myself for things that went poorly or less than desired, and by rereading my journals, I realized that during those times, I had given my all--I had done my best, and there was nothing more I could have given. And I can't keep blaming myself when I was doing more than was my actual capacity. And that wound that has been open for 5+ years closed. And hopefully other wounds will be healed in time--wounds that have been open for even longer.
So, write down the bad stuff. I feel like a lot of people are afraid of writing down the bad stuff. They're afraid that other people will hold them accountable for only their sad times or their hard times. Someday, that writing of the bad stuff might not actually be bad, and it might heal.
That was lovely and wise, Cami.
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