A couple weeks ago, my friends were mocking me because I told them that I had made a new friend. I shared this bit of information in an excited manner, so you can imagine me flailing my arms while saying something along the lines of "Hey guys I made a new friend!" They responded apathetically and one proceeded to say "Dear diary, I made a new friend today, yay me!" in a mocking tone.
Since then, I've filled a third of my red Moleskine which I had acquired in the summer of 2011. When I picked it back up, it was only a third full. It took me two years to get a third of the way in and its content were the antithesis of dense.
I started writing two days before my birthday, so that must have been the 16th. Today's the 29th. In 13 days, or about two weeks, I filled the same number of pages that it took my two years to fill. Two years versus two weeks. That just means that I've had a lot to say lately.
My red Moleskine has since become a necessary therapy. In my Lit & Psychoanalysis class, we drew connections between journal writing and the talking cure. When you write in a journal, you are releasing thoughts that you've kept to yourself throughout the day and is akin to a "chimney-sweep" of the mind.
As an architecture student, stress is an inevitable ailment, along with sleep deprivation, suppressed feelings and emotions, and all the jazz that comes with these symptoms. At the end of the day, my brain is chock full of unspoken thoughts and I can sweep them all into my journal to reveal a clean surface.
The object of these ramblings is to encourage you to take up journal writing. Sometimes there are things that are better left unsaid to the public, even if you think nobody is going to read it. Your journal will become your new therapist, and your sessions free of charge. Pick up your pen while on the train and empty your mind. I promise you, you'll feel so much better afterwards.
No comments:
Post a Comment