peaceful chaos

I think over the course of this blog so far, I’ve talked about a range of things that could be considered somewhat heavy or have some kind of weight to them.

some insightful, some meant to reassure and some for just pure entertainment. but what if I stepped away from the facts for a moment and wrote about something I feel almost too familiar with… writing.

I won’t lie, I think writing has become a lost form of expression and whether you agree with me or not will put you in two groups.

Group 1: someone who doesn’t find themselves writing a lot, probably couldn’t tell you their favourite pen for each type of writing. maybe the kind who has no idea where to start if they were asking to write a thought process out.

then you have my group…

Group 2: someone who has countless notebooks full of random notes, drawings or poems and anecdotes. maybe someone who has journaled for years or maybe even someone who is challenging themselves to write more—and of course the people who have way better handwriting than group 1.

now if you hate being stereotyped or put in a group, feel free to stand tall in your ambiguity. but for those that can calmly and peacefully accept that they sit in one group: welcome. feels good, doesn’t it?

now I’ll apologise to group 1 in advance. I can’t relate to you and I really want you to figure out what pen feels best to write with for yourself. consider it homework and consider yourself free to not read on. but if you’re curious, you are of course welcome to stay and hear a little about what it’s like in group 2 (from my perspective and my perspective only).

I will admit I never really thought I’d be the kind of person to write, especially seeing as I hated the essay subjects I did at school. but I mean, it’s interesting to see the growth curve I’ve hit and seemingly a habit I have picked up and never quite put down.

my writing started in covid. I bought a bullet journal thinking I’d be amazing at it. I’d constantly fill it with interesting pages of birthday months and habit trackers… but it all only lasted a month. and when I sat and thought “well I don’t want to waste this REALLY NICE journal,” I decided to give normal journaling a try.

let’s set some things straight though:

• I did not and have not and will never start an entry with ‘dear diary’
• no, I was never consistent with journaling and probably never will be
• yes, my handwriting has gotten so much better and it would likely make you messy handwriting people envious
• I rarely (and I mean I’ve literally done it twice) use prompts
• I never set a goal of how much to write per entry
• I don’t partake in literary writing, but I’ve been known to write some ‘spoken word’ or ‘poetry’ before

how we ended up here—sprawling what a lot of my friends seem to pick up on as my conversational blog posts out into the void of the internet—I will never know. but I’m glad I’m here and that you’re here too.

I’ve been journaling since the start of covid, so over 6 years now, and I have to say it’s probably one of my proudest achievements. I get to look back on countless versions of myself and see the hardships little M went through, the good times, the silly times and honestly? sometimes I sit there and think ‘what the f*** were you thinking’. but it brought us here with a growing amount of self-awareness and growth I’m not sure I would have achieved without it.

from then I started to dabble in poetry, meeting someone who inspired me and fuelled that passion so much that I’m not even sure if I’d have continued without his support. if he’s reading this (which I have a feeling he might be), you know who you are and I thank you so much.

this poetry led me into a more expressive and creative side of writing that I never saw myself being any good at. until I showed a friend, who related, and another who understood me so much clearer after sharing that we got so much closer. it became a tool not only to unravel my emotions but a way to contextualise my feelings in ways that made more sense than if I sat there and tried to explain.

over the years, I’ve asked myself why I journal and why I write, and with the way I write on this page you’d be surprised at how similar my journal is in tone of voice. because every entry starts with some acknowledgement.

whether it’s to myself or to someone I assume would invade my privacy at some point, I’ve always found the feeling of writing like I’m talking to someone a lot easier than writing “A made me feel this and B is being mean to me..boohoo.”

other times, I’ve addressed journal entries to people. and look, I know how it sounds, you may be asking ‘what does she mean?’. I mean I write letters I’ll never send (not all the time, you can chill out), but it’s been something that has been so utterly helpful and healing. it allows me to think from a perspective of communicating my feelings to a person who has made me feel either happy, sad or angry.

putting that into words without ever needing to say it to them? that’s a high level closure option to me (and significantly cheaper than therapy).

so I guess this post hasn’t got some insightful anecdote, it doesn’t have facts about the benefits of writing or the downsides or anything; it’s a story about my time with writing and ultimately it gives me a chance to ask…

do you write to? or do you write from? from your future self? to your future self? from your past self or to your past self? what feels right to you?