So this is an unplanned post and sort of an inspirational one too.
It’s no secret that I had a disrupted childhood and even though I knew I have gone through real hard times, it isn’t until you see something from your past to yourself that it really hits home how far you have come.
When gutting out my work space yesterday, I came across my high school leaving book. Filled with signatures and memories from my time there. Lot’s of laughs and smiles as I flicked through pictures and messages from people who were at one point, my whole world. Right at the back was a certificate informing me of a poem I had published in an annual collection for young writers.
Now the odd thing is , I can’t actually remember what I had written, so long ago. I could only remember being included in the printed book, so it was a shock to me to read a message from my 15 year old self.
Hindsight is a crazy thing.
At 15, the outside world saw a zany, bubbly happy person. I was never emotional outwardly and I put on a face to show the world, always. I was known as quirky, fun, or giggly. My teachers saw a laid back and contented child.
It seems through my writing I was always honest though and no one picked up on it.
I could tell from one read exactly to what this poem referred too. I could recall the feelings and I was swept with sadness at seeing it. Sadness because not one single person read this entry , that knew me, questioned it. They just thought it was creative writing and I had a flair for the dramatic.
I am glad I did find it though, because I got a glimpse of how far I have come. How far I have healed and how deep I have buried a lot of scars so they never touch me. How much I have progressed and found my strengths.
I am hope – I was rock bottom at so many points that I felt like I was drowning in darkness. There were times I was so heavy I felt like the weight would crush me to death and my mind was a chaos of memories so real, they walked in my physical life.
Now I have days filled with light and genuine happy. No longer wearing masks, no longer hiding my real feelings. I have overcome so much, in an internal battle, a war so great and yet no one even knew it had gone on. My battlefield covered in ruins and blood and yet people only saw the calm.
If I can come this far then you can too. It’s never too late and there are people out here who care and understand. Don’t be silent like I was…. reach out. Find a voice, even if like me, it was through the written word. I have never been much of a poet but I did it, because of a school entry and here years later it’s like a letter to myself that reminds me how bloody amazing I am.
If you ever need someone to talk to then I offer my shoulder to cry on firstname.lastname@example.org. I will never judge. I know what it is like to be a prisoner in your own mind xxx