I don’t like writing things out by hand. It feels as if the words that I place on paper have more power and emotion behind them then the words that I type out.
I don’t know why.
I just know that it is scarier for me.
It is scarier for me to place things handwritten in a journal.
It is scarier for me to place HURT in a journal.
There is so much pain involved in placing phrases and story in my own hand, phrases that hurt parts of my soul.
My journal is sacred. It’s filled with notes from class, quotes from books that impact and lovely musings.
It is where I separate the light from the dark. It is where I should be able to be vulnerable.
But here in this moment I want nothing to do with vulnerability.
I don’t want to fill my journal with words and phrases.
It is terrifying
It terrifies me so much that I bought watercolors to paint the pages in my journal and make them beautiful so I would WANT to write in them. To entice me to place words inside its covers.
I have another blog started on another blank page.
It’s about one of the reasons I am at G42.
A reason I never talk about.
I was going to explain it.
Because in all honesty I just want it to go away.
But while in conversation with one of my precious people in the haven and warmth of her home I realized I still hurt.
I still feel ugly in those things.
As the women who are influential in my life always say tears and anger are a map.
My tears showed me a lot today.
And it’s tough. I’m sitting here on the floor trying to even eek out a sentence in regards to all that’s in my head. All the beginnings of sentences I began in conversation with my dear friend.
I guess I want to encourage myself and in turn encourage you to write the ugly things. I’m writing mine on beautiful painted pages in my journal. I’m surrounding things I deem ugly with beauty.
I think it’s wonderful that I live in a world where ugly things are made lovely so often.
And that’s what I want to strive to do. Show people what they deem ugly in their story and show how they can create out of it beauty
That’s what I’ll be doing in my journal. Sentence by sentence, line by line, I’m going to paint pictures with my words and make the things that aren’t lovely, lovely once more.