My 10 year old nephew, a kid now stuck in the middle of what will certainly be a messy divorce, has been asked to keep a journal. I’m not certain if he asked for one first or if it is the result of him being asked to remember what he does and where he goes when spending time with each parent. These things will of course be requested of him when custody arrangements are considered eventually. But in any case it has occurred to me that simply giving him a bound journal-type notebook and telling him to start keeping a journal isn’t really enough information. Does he understand what a journal is? Has he ever kept one in the past for personal or school reasons? How exactly do you explain to a 10 year old boy what he should be writing and how often it should be done? The obvious purpose in is his parent’s eyes would be to have a log of his activities while they are not with him, but there is far more to it than that. Journaling is more about recording how you feel about things, but not in a literal sense. Now how do you explain THAT to a 10 year old?
I was probably about 11 or 12 when I was first asked by a friend to start keeping a journal. (Thanks Stacey!) I had no idea why, and quite honestly hated doing it much of the time in the beginning. Eventually my nightly routine of scratching out a few sentences about what I had done that day grew into a few paragraphs and eventually into multiple pages over time. Those pages were filled with little things about where I had gone, who I had been with, and how I felt about events. At the time, writing in a journal seemed silly but looking back on it now it is one of the best habits I ever picked up. Writing is a release for everyone who does it; even those who claim to hate it and not be any good at it. Writing is like everything else in life, with practice comes greater ease of doing and a journal can be quite beneficial to improving one’s ability to write. For those who keep hand written journals, it also helps to maintain and improve handwriting skills. I use to benefit from this, until blogger arrived on scene and I began to type journal entries rather than hand write them. My handwriting has suffered greatly at the loss of those journal entries as well! :-(
Having kept a personal journal off and on for most of my life now I guess you could say that I am partial to the belief that everyone should keep one at some point in their life. For those who claim they are “dumb” or “pointless” I would challenge them to recall what they did on January 1 the year they turned 14. For those who keep journals, that answer could be found by flipping through the pages of an old journal on the book shelf. Even if they did not record an entry on that specific date, reading through the entries just before and after the date in question will often trigger memories we have long since forgotten. Trust me on this; old journals can shed a lot of light on fuzzy memories and help us to more accurately remember important times in our lives.
Sure many of the entries found in an adolescent journal will be filled with rants about how unfair it is that we had to spend the day cleaning our room, or why we can’t go over to a friend’s house, but even those entries serve a purpose. At the time we write them, they help to release the anger we are feeling and move past the petty nature of the issue. When we are older and reading through those old entries, it might help us to remember what it was like being a kid again with no control over many things in our lives and feeling picked on because we were asked to do certain chores. This can be an invaluable tool in dealing with our own children who will undoubtedly feel the same anger and resentment toward us when we ask them to clean their room and tell them they cannot do something they have asked permission for. The benefits of keeping a journal are two fold, one for releasing our feelings while we are having them so that we can move past them, and two for remembering what happened to us and how we reacted to the everyday events of our past life.
With that said how do you begin to write a journal if you never have before? What do you write about, how much do you write, and how do you know if you have written too much? Here’s a few simple rules everyone, no matter the age, should follow when writing a personal journal.
1) It is YOUR journal, nobody else. That means you write whatever you want, about anything you want, and as much as you want. A general rule of thumb is to start by listing something you did that day, in detail, and how you felt about doing it. The rest will begin to flow naturally from your brain to your paper.
2) Not every journal entry has to talk about your feelings or what tasks you did during the day. I often write about things that stir up my emotions, good or bad, but have nothing to do with my own personal life. It is fun to go back through old journals from high school and read about my take on a political or news event and why I agreed or disagreed with it. Even some book and song reviews found their way into my journal entries over the years. Apparently I was never really a New Kids on the Block fan though I had just about every cassette tape they released and knew all the words. I pretended to like then just so I could keep up with my friends at school … who knew?
3) Write like no one is reading! It is your journal of your personal thoughts and feelings. You should write like nobody but you will ever read it, don’t worry about the spelling or grammar mistakes you may make, just write. It is however important to keep in mind that if not protected your journal may well find its way into the hands of someone who will read it. Make sure you don’t exaggerate the truth in your entries; you may one day have to defend them!
4) Write every day! The best way to make journaling a habit is simply to write every day, even when you think you have nothing to write about. If you sit down to write and nothing comes, turn on the radio or TV for a few minutes and write a few paragraphs about the song that is playing or the show that is on. Often times beginning with some sort of a journal prompt will lead you to write about things you didn’t even know you had in you. That is how I managed to note in an old journal my feelings toward NKOTB. By the end of that journal entry I had written something far more profound about how we tend to do things we don’t really like just to fit in at school. I was 13 and didn’t realize what I was writing at the time. However, as an adult looking back with a new perspective it is clear that I was very anti-crowd-following even back in junior high but knew some times we must hide behind a mask to protect ourselves from ridicule.
5) Have fun with it! Write about things that make you happy, and sad, and mad, and feel guilty. Write a song or book review, draw a beautiful picture of something stuck on your mind, or just doodle a carton about your silly brother/sister. Write about what you enjoyed about your day, and what you hated about it. What you are doing is logging where you have been, what you have done, and how you felt along your journey. It will help you to release those feelings before they fester into a larger issue, and it will be fun to look back on in your adult life and remember what you loved and hated about your childhood!
Showing posts with label Writing Projects. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing Projects. Show all posts
Thursday, September 01, 2011
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Why I stopped Writing ...
I’ve heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing with them something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return.
Well I don’t know if I believe that’s true
But I know I’m who I am today
Because I knew you!
Some time back in 2009 I lost my drive to write, or more accurately my passion for writing. It happened gradually over time, first with the slowing of written posts on this blog, then eventually with the abrupt lack of any posting of any kind here. I used the excuse that I was working on a new writing project at first. Then that I was posting things on Facebook instead of keeping in contact via this blog. In reality, though I was working on a new writing project and I was posting on Facebook more and more, they were just excuses both to you and to me. So what really happened?
I finished Unconditional during the winter of 2009, all but the final formatting revisions and minor tweaks had been completed and turned over to the one person who I needed to “approve” of the changes. I was biding my time by beginning a new project, still unfinished to date, and searching for a new direction to take that project in. I’m not certain when exactly, but shortly after getting the approval to publish my changes to Unconditional my writing began to taper off significantly. First this blog suffered, then the project I was working on, and eventually even those posts on Facebook became fewer and farther between. My drive was fading fast and by the fall of 2010, it was gone all together.
As most of you know, in September of 2009 my family got word of a late stage cancer diagnosis. In light of that news, and because the project I was working on involves “The Big C”, I stopped working on it completely. With that, I stopped writing. I haven’t written much of anything since then, not even those lengthy e-mails I have become famous for among my friends and family. Sure there have been a few of them over the last year or so, but very few. It would seem that when I needed an outlet for my emotions the most, I stopped writing completely, something I have always used for that much needed release.
I’ll be honest, I never really understood why I stopped writing, just figured I wasn’t interested and would eventually find the time and pick it up again. I was wrong. Something else happened that fall, something far more significant to my mental state and previous need to use writing as a means of emotional release. Part of my writing Unconditional and the conversations it sparked between me and my friends and family were based solely on my need to work through some baggage I have carried with me since high school. Who knew that writing could become the best form of therapy for me?
The rekindling of a friendship with Jack, the common ground that was found with my own family and that of my spouses, the loss of my maternal grandfather, and the news that my mother-in-law has terminal breast cancer all slammed into my world in just two short years. It created a world wind of emotions to deal with and, for the first time in as long as I can remember, those emotions were dealt with in a positive way that did not result in me retreating from my long held beliefs and simply hiding from the world. Instead, I faced them head on, with some help of course, and worked through what needed to be worked through. The stuff that didn’t matter as much was forgotten and moved past and I learned more about myself and my friendships in a few short months than I did in the previous 20 some years combined. And I did it all without writing! No blogs, no long winded e-mails venting to a friend, not even a significant journal entry. Yes I do still keep a hand written journal. I know, how archaic of me.
Instead, I took a new outlook on life, the freedom from baggage that I didn’t even know had been weighing me down for more than a decade, and used it to help form the support system my family needed. I stood strong to anchor them during the loss of my grandfather, and in the wake of the cancer diagnosis. I held tight to my firm belief that everything in life, the good, the bad, and the seemingly insignificant all happens for a distinct reason. I am not one who believes that every little detail of life has been pre-planned by some almighty deity, but there are some elements to that theory I believe hold water. It is far too coincidental that certain people seem to come into my life at just the right moments or that I cross paths with someone for only a moment and feel like I have known them my entire life. My faith in what many call a “higher power” does not follow the rules of any single organized religion, in fact I am in general opposed to most if not all organized religions because of their great propensity to promote nothing but hypocrisy. However, I have learned over time that certain events and people I have met along my path thus far have in fact been for a reason far greater than my immediate understanding at the time. It is my job to discover what their reasons may be so that I can learn from each what I need to know and integrate it into the remainder of my journey.
This outlook has made it easier to deal with the ups and downs of life, especially over the last three years in my immediate and extended families. It has allowed me to see that much can be learned and good can come from tragedies. Had I not lost people in my life previously, or gone through the pain of separation from close friends and family I would not be where I am physically today, nor would I be there mentally. Even through the pain of watching a loved one slowly fade away to a disease that cannot be cured and barely controlled most days, there are lessons to be learned for all. The strength it takes me to rise from bed each day is miniscule compared to that of a person who takes great effort simply in lifting their tired bones from the bed each morning. To them, seeing another day, no matter how filled with discomfort or lack of energy is a gift not a burden. They willingly rise each morning eager to take in every experience that life has left to offer them, and crawl back into bed each night wanting to repeat the process again the next day. We can all learn a bit from those who view each day, no matter what may happen to them along the way, as a gift. And I, having now witnessed this first hand through my mother-in-law’s struggle with cancer have been given a gift that no money could buy. She inspires me to wake each day and learn something new. To experience life until there is nothing left to experience. To roll with the punches and all that will be thrown my way. And to always remember that in life, everything both good and bad happens to us for a reason!
So how does this relate to my passion for writing and why I have not done much of it in the last three years? I lost my passion when I rid myself of the baggage I was carrying in my relationship with Jack. My drive to write in the past was tied to those emotions left raw and hidden from view. When I finally managed to stand up and face them, to admit that I was wrong about some things and clear up some misunderstandings between us, I no longer felt the need to express myself with written words, verbal was suddenly an option for me. It is fair to say that Unconditional was the first and last book I wrote because I needed to. I needed to write back in 2007 and what became of it was Unconditional. After finishing it I began a new project, the one dealing with “The Big C” that still remains unfinished and very much untouched since mid-year 2010. I will one day resume work on that project, but for now it has been shelved in favor of a new story, one that is being written not because I NEED to write it, but more because I WANT to.
I have once again found my passion for writing, my inspiration if you will, and it is still very much linked to my relationship with Jack. However, I now realize it is because he inspires me to do many things in life and his encouragement of my writing is just one of those.
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing with them something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return.
Well I don’t know if I believe that’s true
But I know I’m who I am today
Because I knew you!
Some time back in 2009 I lost my drive to write, or more accurately my passion for writing. It happened gradually over time, first with the slowing of written posts on this blog, then eventually with the abrupt lack of any posting of any kind here. I used the excuse that I was working on a new writing project at first. Then that I was posting things on Facebook instead of keeping in contact via this blog. In reality, though I was working on a new writing project and I was posting on Facebook more and more, they were just excuses both to you and to me. So what really happened?
I finished Unconditional during the winter of 2009, all but the final formatting revisions and minor tweaks had been completed and turned over to the one person who I needed to “approve” of the changes. I was biding my time by beginning a new project, still unfinished to date, and searching for a new direction to take that project in. I’m not certain when exactly, but shortly after getting the approval to publish my changes to Unconditional my writing began to taper off significantly. First this blog suffered, then the project I was working on, and eventually even those posts on Facebook became fewer and farther between. My drive was fading fast and by the fall of 2010, it was gone all together.
As most of you know, in September of 2009 my family got word of a late stage cancer diagnosis. In light of that news, and because the project I was working on involves “The Big C”, I stopped working on it completely. With that, I stopped writing. I haven’t written much of anything since then, not even those lengthy e-mails I have become famous for among my friends and family. Sure there have been a few of them over the last year or so, but very few. It would seem that when I needed an outlet for my emotions the most, I stopped writing completely, something I have always used for that much needed release.
I’ll be honest, I never really understood why I stopped writing, just figured I wasn’t interested and would eventually find the time and pick it up again. I was wrong. Something else happened that fall, something far more significant to my mental state and previous need to use writing as a means of emotional release. Part of my writing Unconditional and the conversations it sparked between me and my friends and family were based solely on my need to work through some baggage I have carried with me since high school. Who knew that writing could become the best form of therapy for me?
The rekindling of a friendship with Jack, the common ground that was found with my own family and that of my spouses, the loss of my maternal grandfather, and the news that my mother-in-law has terminal breast cancer all slammed into my world in just two short years. It created a world wind of emotions to deal with and, for the first time in as long as I can remember, those emotions were dealt with in a positive way that did not result in me retreating from my long held beliefs and simply hiding from the world. Instead, I faced them head on, with some help of course, and worked through what needed to be worked through. The stuff that didn’t matter as much was forgotten and moved past and I learned more about myself and my friendships in a few short months than I did in the previous 20 some years combined. And I did it all without writing! No blogs, no long winded e-mails venting to a friend, not even a significant journal entry. Yes I do still keep a hand written journal. I know, how archaic of me.
Instead, I took a new outlook on life, the freedom from baggage that I didn’t even know had been weighing me down for more than a decade, and used it to help form the support system my family needed. I stood strong to anchor them during the loss of my grandfather, and in the wake of the cancer diagnosis. I held tight to my firm belief that everything in life, the good, the bad, and the seemingly insignificant all happens for a distinct reason. I am not one who believes that every little detail of life has been pre-planned by some almighty deity, but there are some elements to that theory I believe hold water. It is far too coincidental that certain people seem to come into my life at just the right moments or that I cross paths with someone for only a moment and feel like I have known them my entire life. My faith in what many call a “higher power” does not follow the rules of any single organized religion, in fact I am in general opposed to most if not all organized religions because of their great propensity to promote nothing but hypocrisy. However, I have learned over time that certain events and people I have met along my path thus far have in fact been for a reason far greater than my immediate understanding at the time. It is my job to discover what their reasons may be so that I can learn from each what I need to know and integrate it into the remainder of my journey.
This outlook has made it easier to deal with the ups and downs of life, especially over the last three years in my immediate and extended families. It has allowed me to see that much can be learned and good can come from tragedies. Had I not lost people in my life previously, or gone through the pain of separation from close friends and family I would not be where I am physically today, nor would I be there mentally. Even through the pain of watching a loved one slowly fade away to a disease that cannot be cured and barely controlled most days, there are lessons to be learned for all. The strength it takes me to rise from bed each day is miniscule compared to that of a person who takes great effort simply in lifting their tired bones from the bed each morning. To them, seeing another day, no matter how filled with discomfort or lack of energy is a gift not a burden. They willingly rise each morning eager to take in every experience that life has left to offer them, and crawl back into bed each night wanting to repeat the process again the next day. We can all learn a bit from those who view each day, no matter what may happen to them along the way, as a gift. And I, having now witnessed this first hand through my mother-in-law’s struggle with cancer have been given a gift that no money could buy. She inspires me to wake each day and learn something new. To experience life until there is nothing left to experience. To roll with the punches and all that will be thrown my way. And to always remember that in life, everything both good and bad happens to us for a reason!
So how does this relate to my passion for writing and why I have not done much of it in the last three years? I lost my passion when I rid myself of the baggage I was carrying in my relationship with Jack. My drive to write in the past was tied to those emotions left raw and hidden from view. When I finally managed to stand up and face them, to admit that I was wrong about some things and clear up some misunderstandings between us, I no longer felt the need to express myself with written words, verbal was suddenly an option for me. It is fair to say that Unconditional was the first and last book I wrote because I needed to. I needed to write back in 2007 and what became of it was Unconditional. After finishing it I began a new project, the one dealing with “The Big C” that still remains unfinished and very much untouched since mid-year 2010. I will one day resume work on that project, but for now it has been shelved in favor of a new story, one that is being written not because I NEED to write it, but more because I WANT to.
I have once again found my passion for writing, my inspiration if you will, and it is still very much linked to my relationship with Jack. However, I now realize it is because he inspires me to do many things in life and his encouragement of my writing is just one of those.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
The Race
It was inevitable
This test, this result
Another battle has begun
In a race that won't be won
Another reminder of how little they really know
Of how fragile life has grown
And how far we have yet to go
In this race against time
This is the point where some give in
Let time win
And simply wait for it to end
But lucky for us, that's just not your style
Instead, you'll get up again
Brush the dust from your smile
And head down the path laid out before you
Ready to fight your way to the end
Though we can’t win this race for you
Or even join in on the fight
We’ll never be far from your side
Ready to catch you when you fall
To help you get up again
With friends and family near
Your support system all in place
This is a battle you just might win
Another chance to prolong the race
This test, this result
Another battle has begun
In a race that won't be won
Another reminder of how little they really know
Of how fragile life has grown
And how far we have yet to go
In this race against time
This is the point where some give in
Let time win
And simply wait for it to end
But lucky for us, that's just not your style
Instead, you'll get up again
Brush the dust from your smile
And head down the path laid out before you
Ready to fight your way to the end
Though we can’t win this race for you
Or even join in on the fight
We’ll never be far from your side
Ready to catch you when you fall
To help you get up again
With friends and family near
Your support system all in place
This is a battle you just might win
Another chance to prolong the race
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
And he’s back!
So for the past three nights running he’s been there as I close my eyes to fall asleep, again when I begin to wake, and quite often the entire time in between. The face is not always visible, but I know it’s him. Some times he speaks, sometimes he’s a mere shadow on the wall, but always I know he is present and watching. Most would find this unsettling, but for me it is a comfort to have him near. Though it does make me wonder why he has returned.
I don’t off hand recall when last he spent time with me, but I suspect it was last fall. Sometime after the leaves began to change and before the snowboarding season really kicked off. December or early January I’m guessing. In any case, it has been months since I’ve felt his presence, seen his face as I close my eyes, or had the distinct impression that he is watching over me. And without knowing it, I have come to realize I’ve missed him there in the shadows of my dreams.
His return has brought with it some gifts I did not expect but have now realized may well be linked directly to his presence. I am writing again, this entry is proof of that. I am designing again, for personal and professional projects of the digital variety. I have not yet found the time to start, but I will soon be drawing again, and a project that has been on hold for at least a year has been dusted off and slow progress is being made on it as well. I am inspired again!
His return has also brought to light just how much I miss hanging with the real life version of The Catcher and I suspect some time will be made to rectify that lapse in communication soon. My creativity has always been tied to my emotions, for better or worse, and now I am left to ponder how he fits into this as well. Is his appearance a result of increased emotions, or are those a result of his return?
In any case, welcome back Kerry!
I don’t off hand recall when last he spent time with me, but I suspect it was last fall. Sometime after the leaves began to change and before the snowboarding season really kicked off. December or early January I’m guessing. In any case, it has been months since I’ve felt his presence, seen his face as I close my eyes, or had the distinct impression that he is watching over me. And without knowing it, I have come to realize I’ve missed him there in the shadows of my dreams.
His return has brought with it some gifts I did not expect but have now realized may well be linked directly to his presence. I am writing again, this entry is proof of that. I am designing again, for personal and professional projects of the digital variety. I have not yet found the time to start, but I will soon be drawing again, and a project that has been on hold for at least a year has been dusted off and slow progress is being made on it as well. I am inspired again!
His return has also brought to light just how much I miss hanging with the real life version of The Catcher and I suspect some time will be made to rectify that lapse in communication soon. My creativity has always been tied to my emotions, for better or worse, and now I am left to ponder how he fits into this as well. Is his appearance a result of increased emotions, or are those a result of his return?
In any case, welcome back Kerry!
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
in progress
Was doing a little blog re-organization and ran across this draft I never published ... It was originally penned back in 2008, somewhere between May and September. It is by no means a complete work, but I'll share it anyway.
Can't concentrate, can't think
Thoughts keep drifting back in time
Memories of our last encounters
Things he said, looks he gave
Advice he offered so effortlessly
Months have passed between us
Always too busy to make the time
Life goes on day by day
Each one slipping quietly into the past
Time stacking up against us
Knowing one day will be our last
Was that it, the last I will see of him
That chilly day in May
When my thoughts were somewhere else
Off in my own little world
Listening intently as he spoke
Gave of himself, sat patiently for my answers
Telling me "I'll Wait" when I would pause between them
All the while knowing
I was somewhere else
It was his birthday, but I forgot
It was the beginning, and the end
A day filled with tears, and hope
Of mixed emotions, weakness, and strength
The last day I heard my grandfather's voice
The last day I believed I was a misfit
The first day my eyes were truely open wide
The first day I could see the reason it all changed
In the emotional falout of that day
I learned, I grew, I changed
I asked the hard questions
And gave answers to them more freely
When they were asked of me
Yet some things remain the same
Our lives are forever intertwined
The distance between us
A double edged sword
A new balance i know I must find
Thoughts keep drifting back in time
Memories of our last encounters
Things he said, looks he gave
Advice he offered so effortlessly
Months have passed between us
Always too busy to make the time
Life goes on day by day
Each one slipping quietly into the past
Time stacking up against us
Knowing one day will be our last
Was that it, the last I will see of him
That chilly day in May
When my thoughts were somewhere else
Off in my own little world
Listening intently as he spoke
Gave of himself, sat patiently for my answers
Telling me "I'll Wait" when I would pause between them
All the while knowing
I was somewhere else
It was his birthday, but I forgot
It was the beginning, and the end
A day filled with tears, and hope
Of mixed emotions, weakness, and strength
The last day I heard my grandfather's voice
The last day I believed I was a misfit
The first day my eyes were truely open wide
The first day I could see the reason it all changed
In the emotional falout of that day
I learned, I grew, I changed
I asked the hard questions
And gave answers to them more freely
When they were asked of me
Yet some things remain the same
Our lives are forever intertwined
The distance between us
A double edged sword
A new balance i know I must find
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)