I haven’t posted anything in a long time but I have been writing a little more lately. I’ve decided I want to write daily and continue what I had been working on previously.
So, hi! I’m alive and doing better in many ways. This is a good thing.
And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.
– Sylvia Plath
I wrote the last entry of my 4th journal the other day.
…I flipped through pages of this journal a few times in the past couple days. There have been some very unhappy passages that I can remember so well just by reading. Lately, I’ve been wondering, why do I keep a journal? I have since I was 15. Is it just tradition? Because sometimes I won’t write in this journal for months, so it isn’t a routine. So, why do I do it? Why did I purchase a new journal after seeing only four pages left in this one?
I know that I am a writer. I keep a writing blog, a Tumblr… many outlets for expression and creativity. But these are outlets others can read– a huge difference in comparison to this writing/journaling outlet. So why do I do it? For myself? To organize my thoughts? So that my future self can look at the past? I always have my memories, but by writing them down I am logging them as well as the feelings associated. I guess I do it for several reasons:
1: To look back at my feelings and thoughts in a particular situation.
2: A private, creative outlet.
3: Out of habit/ I’ve never been without a journal.
4: Writing to/for myself.
I write to myself when I write here. Though it feels like I am writing to someone else– a reader– the reader is me. But sometimes, we do things that do not have reasons. We can do things that do not always need explanations for why we do them. Jonathan Safran Foer said, “I write because I want to end my loneliness.” Journal writing seems to be a huge comfort for me as well. I associate it with hard times– times when I had to write to escape the feeling of being alone. And though I now love alone time, I still love to escape the world best by entering into my own thoughts by way of pen and paper. By writing here, I am able to now be alone. And though sometimes I write during my weakest moments, that escape from the world is helpful on so many different levels. (Even though at the time, it is excruciatingly painful to be alone.)
And so, I guess I write to embrace aloneness and escape the constant association of being alone with being lonely. I write because, as Graham Greene says, “Writing is a form of therapy.” And every now and again, I need therapy of my own; the kind without a therapist.
“Certainly, the people we love inspire us to heights of love and compassion that we might have never achieved otherwise. But to really scale those heights, we often have to go to the depths of who we are, light/shadow, good/evil, loving/destructive, and figure out our own self in order to love them better. So I’m not sure if it’s an either/or, but a both/and. We love others fiercely; maybe more than we think we love ourselves but that fierce love should drive us to the depths of ourselves so that we can learn to be compassionate with ourselves. ”