One of the things I love to do naturally as a writer is journal and I’ve been using this desire to write to discover myself and recall things of my past. I’ve been going through some extremely hard things lately, coming to terms with my past, both done to me and that I’ve done, and last night it led me to Celebrate Recovery at one of our local churches. It was a rare night to start because it was the group’s 5th anniversary, but the experience was still interesting and made a big impact. It gave me motivation to be around other people who are not only struggling with various “habits, hurts, and hangups” (as they say) but to also be around people who have overcome the very things I’m struggling with. The only words I really said in the small group “Newcomers 101” was:
My name is Alexandra and I struggle with codependency,
abandonment, anxiety, depression, and slight PTSD from the Navy.
But just saying those few words was powerful enough. I knew those things about me all along, I had said some of them at one time or another before, but I had never said it like that, like I was admitting to everyone there and God that these things are real inside of me and I want to change them.
I don’t know why, but it seems like for writers, or any artist in general, there’s a stereotype that we are all in pain and that we should be in pain to create good art. Spectacular art is born through pain. I don’t know if that’s true or not. I think it’s true because by expressing a certain pain, so many people can relate to it in a big way. We’re all a little broken somehow and just want to know we’re not alone. That’s why art- paintings, poems, books, drawing, sculptures, photographs, music- can be so comforting in times of hurt. I can’t take away my past hurts. They’re there. But I can choose to be different, to be better, and to move past them. But I also feel it’s my duty to share them once I’m better so I can help others, and I know this is going to effect my writing in a big way.