Why I’m Turning to Writing to Heal My Deepest Wound
As a child, my art was pure joy. As an adult, it became an escape. Here’s how it all unfolded, and how it’s transforming yet again.
From my earliest memories as a child, I found ways to express myself — dancing, singing, acting, painting, even triathlons. Each one was a source of joy, a way to touch the heart of fulfillment. Yet, over time, they slowly morphed into something else — they became my escape routes. Trapped in circumstances or environments I couldn’t change, I coped by losing myself in these outlets, not realizing that this could lead to an unhealthy cycle of constant reward-seeking, a possible source of addiction.
Now, there’s a new horizon for me to explore, a new form of expression, or maybe just another escape — writing.
You see, I’ve always been intrigued by the idea of writing, but often, I found myself grappling with self-doubt. What’s funny is, it’s not like I’m not used to being a beginner. I mean, who would dive into triathlons if they feared the unknown, right?
I tried my luck a few times, attempting to join my school publication in both high school and college, but the scattered chaos of my thoughts didn’t quite make the cut. The weird part? Classmates would borrow my journal to read my random musings of the day. Aren’t diaries supposed to be private? But there they were, giggling at my quirky remarks and thanking me for letting them peek into my mind. At first, I didn’t think much of it, but now I realize that they loved my writing because it was raw, authentic, and most of all, relatable. We were all just surviving and not acknowledging it. We didn’t believe anyone could relate to what we were experiencing.
So, here we are…Hello there? This is a bit awkward.
If I am being completely honest with myself, this attempt to revisit my passions is more than just a casual endeavor. It’s an effort to reclaim the joy that once bubbled up spontaneously whenever I was engaged in creative pursuits. I have neglected some of these outlets over time, and the reasons behind this are complex and deep-seated. A profound wound that refuses to heal may be at play. There are numerous factors that contribute to this loss of initial spark, and in due course, I intend to share them.
However, I’m embarking on this writing journey not only for my own benefit but also as a healing gesture towards my younger self, who yearned to play and express freely. This is for the younger me who craved nothing more than to immerse herself in creativity and joy.
4 year old “Maria” Judith Marie
When it comes to this blog, I promise to be nothing but myself. With so many brilliant writers out there, it’s tempting to compare and compete. But why should I? After all, I am the only me, uniquely me, and no one can replace me — hopefully not even AI or some bizarre cloning technology.
Today, through writing, I’m finding a healthier outlet. By doing so, I’m able to process and reflect on my coping mechanisms, breaking them down one by one. This enables me to understand why I’ve adopted these mechanisms and to heal those parts of myself, rather than suppressing my pain and numbing myself with other forms of instant gratification.
This blog will probably turn into another kind of diary, but I promise it’s going to be fun. If you’re here, it means you might resonate with my joy, my pain, and the stories in between. How my week went, my failures and triumphs, minus the secret stuff for my actual diary, okay?
I’d love to hear your thoughts on this. Have you found your form of expression? How do you escape, or better yet, face your reality? Let’s start a conversation below, and remember, words speak louder than emojis.
Returning to my initial question: What am I escaping from? Why do I have an abundance of hobbies besides being an ENFP? Perhaps my future posts will unravel these mysteries.
So, here’s to writing — my newest endeavor. Will it be another escape, or could it turn out to be my salvation? Only time, and words, will tell.
