It’s been a little over 7 months since I started blogging again and it has felt like coming home. I think the first time I started a blog was when I was 14 years old. I didn’t tell anyone about it because I wrote not for people to read but simply to have a place just for me. A place where I could write about whatever silly or random or serious thing that was on my mind that day. A safe place.
Sure, I had my journal. But I wrote about the abuse and the stress and the fears of my life in my journals. Journalling was a lifeline, a saving grace of sorts, but it wasn’t always safe. You know?
So I started blogging. And ever since then I’ve never felt fully and truly like myself if I wasn’t blogging. I didn’t really care much whether or not people read it. I figured if they were meant to, they would. And if not, well, I wasn’t writing to please people anyways…I was writing to share my heart. And nobody is obligated to care about what’s going on in my heart.
Fast-forward to getting life-threateningly sick for years and the blog becoming a place primarily for me to share health updates to try and keep my loved ones up to date about what was going on. And then the migraines that seemed to steal blogging away from me as if overnight. And then even worse, the trauma of my entire life catching up to me in one fell swoop. At that point in my life, nothing felt like a safe place. Nothing felt sacred. Everything just felt like one big, long, never-ending nightmare that I couldn’t escape from…or share.
I used to know well the healing power of putting words to music. When I was a teenager I taught myself to play guitar so I could do just that. Putting words to melodies was so therapeutic for me. It helped me work through, process, express, and find healing from painful things that I otherwise didn’t know how to talk about or work through. It was a strange and beautiful thing to me how a simple rhyme could help me tap into my biggest hurts and deepest fears and find clarity and healing from them. Putting words to music helped me feel heard even if I never showed those words to anybody else. It was such a gift. But in the course of a year my jaw lost its ability to sing and my hands lost their ability to play guitar due to a torn ligament in my wrist…and so I forgot the gift that I had once known so well.
Over the last year I’ve been writing healing words again. The kind of healing words that come with melodies. I don’t write songs…I don’t know how to without my guitar, at least not yet anyway. But sometimes I hum little made up melodies, and sometimes words come to me to fit them. Sometimes the words rhyme, sometimes not. Sometimes they help me process a whole avalanche of pain, sometimes just one specific trauma of my past. There are no rules. There is only a journey of healing…one little expression of my heart at a time. And I’m finally ready to share some of that journey, starting next week.