My Story (Part 1): Get out of my head...
I was so happy about my conversations regarding my last blog post that I just started writing - two cups of jo later - I've written so much that I've had to break it down in "parts/pieces"... I just had to get it out...I hope you enjoy.
Who would've known...that last blog post touched so many people...
I have had so many people write me about their (similar) situations and I love it, because it feels like we aren't alone. It's easy for me to feel trapped inside my own head at times - like are these thoughts and emotions normal? Am I just too sensitive? Am I crazy?
But since talking about it and reading others' experiences - I know that it's all so natural and so familiar. It's refreshing to know that you aren't alone - you know?
I mean - lets be real - by each blog post there is a number - meaning the number of people that actually click on the blog title. I can't see who the people are or if someone clicked more than once - but I know that there are people that read the post...and that lets me know that I'm not just writing to virtually no one - but there is something about hearing others' stories that helps me realize that I'm not alone. There are other women and men (of all ages) that get it...get me...
Yesterday, my mother, father, and sister went through all the paper in our house - preparing for the community "shred" day. Don't ask. All this to say, my mom was so excited, because she found so many pictures, documents, and memories while preparing for Shred Day. Along with her memories, she found my journals... about 20 throughout the house.
Being honest, she told me that she opened one up and began to read it...but had to close it because she felt like she was intruding on my inner most thoughts. It's funny - I laughed. I'm not really scared of people being in my head... in fact, I welcome it. I've never been the girl with the lock and key - I've never warned my family, friends, or Mike about reading my diary. I keep my diaries on my book shelf or laying somewhere around my house. I write, because I have too much going on in my head - not in a genius way - but in a "I need to get these thoughts out" way! When I don't write daily - I feel like I am suffocating in thoughts - seriously. Every day, I have to have at least 20 minutes to myself with no one around. I need quiet - I need to sort through my thoughts - many times in a convo with God (which includes a computer or paper and pen). I feel overwhelmed if I don't take the time. I feel isolated in my head - even when there are people around. Weird, huh?
I realized this about myself at a very young age - very. I had to be close to preschool age, because I used to draw - before I could completely write. I realized that I wasn't finished after a conversation with someone - my brain - my thoughts wouldn't quiet down. I needed more of an outlet. I started writing in journals around kindergarten - Ms. Woodward, a teacher, suggested that my parents get me a journal after she saw my happiness and peace when creating our hardcover books. My mom still has all my hardcover books. It was the only time the teachers saw me sit still and be an utopia of some sort. I was serene. I was not a "good" child - very loud, rambunctious, talkative, and full of everything that makes a teacher's job miserable. To keep me busy - they put me in the "excel" track, called my parents (often), but it was Ms. Lipps - my second grade teacher that begin letting me sit in the school library and read and write. She would let me sit there for hours... (probably not okay) by today's standards...but it worked...
Anyways, back to my mother reading my journal...
Who would've known...that last blog post touched so many people...
I have had so many people write me about their (similar) situations and I love it, because it feels like we aren't alone. It's easy for me to feel trapped inside my own head at times - like are these thoughts and emotions normal? Am I just too sensitive? Am I crazy?
But since talking about it and reading others' experiences - I know that it's all so natural and so familiar. It's refreshing to know that you aren't alone - you know?
I mean - lets be real - by each blog post there is a number - meaning the number of people that actually click on the blog title. I can't see who the people are or if someone clicked more than once - but I know that there are people that read the post...and that lets me know that I'm not just writing to virtually no one - but there is something about hearing others' stories that helps me realize that I'm not alone. There are other women and men (of all ages) that get it...get me...
Being honest, she told me that she opened one up and began to read it...but had to close it because she felt like she was intruding on my inner most thoughts. It's funny - I laughed. I'm not really scared of people being in my head... in fact, I welcome it. I've never been the girl with the lock and key - I've never warned my family, friends, or Mike about reading my diary. I keep my diaries on my book shelf or laying somewhere around my house. I write, because I have too much going on in my head - not in a genius way - but in a "I need to get these thoughts out" way! When I don't write daily - I feel like I am suffocating in thoughts - seriously. Every day, I have to have at least 20 minutes to myself with no one around. I need quiet - I need to sort through my thoughts - many times in a convo with God (which includes a computer or paper and pen). I feel overwhelmed if I don't take the time. I feel isolated in my head - even when there are people around. Weird, huh?
I realized this about myself at a very young age - very. I had to be close to preschool age, because I used to draw - before I could completely write. I realized that I wasn't finished after a conversation with someone - my brain - my thoughts wouldn't quiet down. I needed more of an outlet. I started writing in journals around kindergarten - Ms. Woodward, a teacher, suggested that my parents get me a journal after she saw my happiness and peace when creating our hardcover books. My mom still has all my hardcover books. It was the only time the teachers saw me sit still and be an utopia of some sort. I was serene. I was not a "good" child - very loud, rambunctious, talkative, and full of everything that makes a teacher's job miserable. To keep me busy - they put me in the "excel" track, called my parents (often), but it was Ms. Lipps - my second grade teacher that begin letting me sit in the school library and read and write. She would let me sit there for hours... (probably not okay) by today's standards...but it worked...
Anyways, back to my mother reading my journal...
