It’s one of the most undervalued skills society constantly neglects. It’s something that we were taught as children and were expected to utilize as a secondary form of communication. More importantly, it’s something that I would like to consider being a lifeline.
Writing has been my solution to many problems. I’ve always had the tendency to bottle up any anger or stress that was placed upon me. By not telling people what bothered me, my morale and desire to associate with others were negatively affected. At the time, I was never comfortable enough to tell others my problems in worry that I would be of bother to them.
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Whenever I had an issue about something, I always wrote it down on a piece of paper. Later on, usually during the evening, I would find that same piece of paper with things that were on my mind and write about them. I had no filter as I would write with vivid detail to simulate talking to someone about the issue. The more bothersome a particular issue was to me, the more descriptive I was.
As my writing continued to develop, I became fixated on perfecting everything I wrote. I wanted to sound professional when conveying a thought. I soon began reading the dictionary to find words that sounded better articulated and meaningful than its more simplistic synonym. I began to practice writing sentences with the words I learned in order to broaden my range of vocabulary. I also practiced my penmanship as I thought that a neat writing style is a component in effectively writing a narrative or any piece of work.
I purchased diaries and notebooks and filled them with daily journal entries regardless of what happened that day. I became obsessed and made it my daily ritual to transcribe real life instances onto paper making it seem imperative that I informed my imaginary audience what occurred in the life of the adolescent introvert.
When you become emotional from doing something, it becomes clear that you are doing something with passion. The evenings where I wrote about whatever was on my mind made me experience a plethora of emotions. Some papers were torn from the anger I evoked towards my pen which pressed aggressively against the paper. Some became soggy from the tears I shedded while painfully chronicling all of my troubles. Regardless of what I wrote about, I felt a degree of satisfaction and relief when I was finished. I no longer bottled any stress and found a way to release whatever was on my mind. I eventually began to open up to other people when I faced an issue but it was because of writing that made me gain the confidence to do so.
Writing became the friend I always wanted, the therapist who worked with me to resolve my issues and the individual who I learned to grow with. Writing became my ultimate form of escape, more so than exercise. My passion towards writing grows every day, as my aspirations to one day become a professional writer seem more realistic due to how I handled stressed that was bottled up within my subconscious. I am forever grateful to have the skill of writing as part of my arsenal and I hope to one day impact the lives of other people because of it.
