“We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.”
- Anais Nin
At first, it seems like nothing more than a notebook. It only appears as paper bound together used to jot down ideas, collect thoughts and record memories before their fade. But, it was deeper.
I discovered the deep love for my journal. I was antsy for our nightly encounters. The insides are dirtied with my favorite midnight snacks and stained with tears from the days I thought would never end. The pages full of deep breaths and exhales, lined with the bowels of my very being.
Writing as a means to self discovery was not as easy as I presumed. I took for granted that every session would be peaceful, a moment of calm and tranquility. Writing became the purge that was the result of every emotional binge. And just like any lover, we quarreled, as I would wage war and partake in the discomfort associated with confronting myself head on. It is a battleground – a place for old wounds to resurface, newfound discoveries and love to be made… to myself. It is a place of worship, as on every new page I can fall at the altar of myself. When, without external praise, in this space is where I can extend my arms and wrap them around the woman who needs to be embraced the most. It is there I learn to love myself when the love of others will not quite do.
A space for my unrested mind to roam; it is in the pages of my journal, where I can see, think and dream in bright new colors. A time capsule – that captures the past, embraces the moment and attempts to predict the future.
It is a place of journeying.
With each communal moment, I discover that journaling is for women who write from their core in an effort to pour their inner most being onto the pages of their tattered notebooks.
It is a constant revealing of myself to myself. A mutual understanding, because my journal knows and is always awake. Always open. Always ready to receive an outpour – just listening.
It is where I drown in my feelings and come up for air all in the same entry. It is where I am still. It is where I mend my broken wings and battle wounds. It’s a sacred space that reflects my mind and reveals my heart. It is where I innovate the understanding of who I am. It is in the pages of my journal where I again become whole.