Maybe you’re first thought was ‘what has she got to write about?’ Well... that was mine too! I’m not a mum, not good at beauty, not good at fitness (lol), and I don't know the first thing about fashion.
But I do overthink, and I do overshare.
It takes guts to write, but it takes even more to share what you have written.
Writing is very much in my comfort zone, but sharing is miles out of it.
For me, writing is a very personal thing, I don't write for other people.
I write for myself. Honest and unfiltered.
It's therapeutic, a way to gather all the thoughts that linger in my head and watch them spill onto paper or a way to hold onto some moments and feelings forever because those things fade, but when I read them back, it’s like I’m feeling them all over again.
I have always loved to write. As a kid I wanted to be an author or scriptwriter, that was after nurse but before photographer.
I used to write anything that came to me, poems, songs, articles, lists but... narratives, they were my kryptonite. I would spend months in my school workbooks planning and drafting before I took it to Microsoft Word, writing, perfecting and proofing one piece. Then I would ‘publish’ which was a stack of printed A4 paper stapled together with, my favourite part, a title page. There was nothing more satisfying than that last step.
I took a Writing class at school in year 10. It's where I first grew close to one of my best friends. Shelby would proofread all my writing and we’d bounce ideas off each other. We were both fully immersed in it. Our only other class together was Science. We did no Science work that year. I remember constantly hiding my writing under my Science book, sneakily exchanging our stories and reading each other's while the teacher talked.
She's the first person, and sometimes the only person I let read what I write. And all these years later, she’s the first person I let read this.
I have not written a story since high school.
I got distracted.
I lost touch with it.
Maybe I grew out of it.
I wrote back then because I had stories in my head, like a little girl playing with dolls, ideas just came to me and it felt natural.
I guess, in some way, that’s why I write now too. But instead of stories, they are thoughts and although my head is huge, it just isn't big enough to keep them all.
I first started writing in a journal at the end of grade six.
As a kid I had two irrational beliefs.
One was that I was going to die before I became a teenager.
The other was that I was going to forget myself.
It all stemmed from having a vivid imagination.
I could imagine scenarios as if they were real life.
I could imagine whatever I wanted, but I could never imagine myself past a certain stage of life.
I used to lay in bed and try.
I concluded, very diplomatically, that I just simply wouldn't live past that stage.
I wasn't scared, or worried, I was rather intrigued.
As I was nearing the end of Grade six and approaching high school I got inevitably closer to that grey muggy stage and had even possibly started to step my toe ever so cautiously inside it.
I was scared now, not that I was going to die.
But that I was going live.
I was going to live in complete unknown.
Who would I be? What would my life be like?
I had so many thoughts, and curiorsities.
And so I started to write.
At first it was on scrap paper which usually got hidden in my undies draw or thrown deep into the bin.
It felt comforting to know that there was a solid physical part of me on paper, a part that wouldn't change or wouldn't grow.
Then I started to realise that I was going to change, and I was going to grow. And I worried, I would forget myself.
I would forget that my blue barbie car was my favourite, and that we had a horse named Henry. I would forget that on Thursday nights I played basketball and on Tuesdays I trained.
But as time went on my entries became more than "tonight we went to basketball training" and I started to discover the benefits of writing my thoughts and feelings.
Seeing them on paper got them out of my head and there, they made more sense.
Sometimes as soon as I finished writing I'd read it back and already feel so differently.
Words on paper give me more clarity than words in my head.
Some people will understand that and some will think I'm crazy.
Now, I might go months without putting pen to paper. But then I have a thought, or someone will say something that sticks with me.
Sometimes it'll be a life event that's left my head scrambled or my heart hurting; writing clears and heals.
Sometimes it'll be a life event that's left me with a feeling so good I never want to lose or forget; writing preserves and protects.
I rarely reflect on my journal. But when I do, I'm always left with a funny feeling. It's like looking back at a photograph of you when you were younger and seeing how much you have grown and changed, instead of showing my physical appearance or outfit choice, it shows my mind, thoughts and maturity. Reading about my hard times makes me remember how deeply I felt about them at the time, it reminds me that pain fades and my problems won't be problems forever. Reading about my good times gives detail to my faded memories and allows me to feel the happiness in those moments all over again.
I have always kept my journals private. And that's how some should be; they weren't written to be read.
So that brings me to why I have decided to share now.
It was Shelby who over a year ago suggested to me on her front porch "you should start a blog" and my response to her was "but I'm not a mum. What would I even write about? And who would even read it?" she had valid answers. But it was, and still is, just so far out of my comfort zone, it wasn't even considered.
I don't know why I have spent so long hiding that I like to write, I didn't mean it.
It's I originally was embarrassed, but as I got older I wasn't, I had gone long enough without mentioning it so it became a big deal to suddenly mention it. Then all of a sudden I had a secret. And slowly I built up this fear of people finding out something I wasn't even trying to hide in the first place.
Now I'm breaking it all down!
A few days ago I wouldn't even let people I love and care about read my writing let alone make it available to anyone with an internet connection. But, that's both the beauty and flaw of technology, we can be so comfortable and confident behind our screens.
Someone close to me has spent the last few months telling me to care less about what other people think. Let's be honest, we all care to a certain extent. But until being pulled up on it, I'd never realised how much of my life is influenced by the caution I subconsciously take because of how other people 'might' perceive me. In reality, other people probably don't care anyway! And if they do, good on them. They'll get over it.
Some of us like sports, or makeup, or reading, or games, or fashion, or art, some like health and fitness or to match their Instagram feed, and some of us, like me, like to write. It's not a big deal. (Nervous laugh)
No matter what it is, if you're hiding what you love, you're hiding who you are.
So here it is, my new journal.
I don't have any extensive knowledge or wisdom. I haven't lived any great life experience to share with you. And my lifestyle is pretty regular.
But if I enjoy writing, and even just a few people enjoy reading it, then, why not?
I am absolutely certain there are people who will think this blog is bullshit. (If you are one and have read this far, well done!)
I'm not going to let it worry me, we're all different and if people aren't interested they don't have to click the link.
If we stopped ourselves from doing something we liked every time someone else in the world thought it was bullshit what a boring life we'd live and what boring people we would be.
For those of you who don't think it's bullshit, come along on this journey with me!
I have no idea what it'll look like yet, but that's half the fun!
I hope there will be parts you can relate to, parts you can laugh at and maybe some parts you can learn from. At the very least, I hope you are entertained.
Thank you for reading!