Posted On October/2019
I have my last writing class tomorrow and I have enjoyed it tremendously. While I’m sorry it’s over, part of me is relieved. Taking this class while getting radiation and physical therapy was a bit ambitious of me. Even though it only took place once a week, it was a bit too tiring for me but I have no regrets.
I wrote about experiences and people in my life like my childhood, my Dad and Grandma. Each story helped me to gain insight into areas of my life that I have not visited in a very long time. I love to write, for me, writing is a cathartic experience that helps me to sort out my thoughts and feelings.
The class helped me to get in touch with feelings and memories that I haven’t addressed in a long time. For instance, we were instructed to find a picture of ourselves from around the age of six to eight years old. We were to look at ourselves as children and then write about what is missing. I found a picture of myself from the second grade and as I looked at the young, naive version of myself, the memories came flooding back.
I forgot about how much I hated my catholic school uniform or how Mom would pick Susie and I up while warm freshly baked cookies were waiting for us at home.
As I looked back at myself as a child I noticed how happy and carefree I looked. There were no signs of anxiety, stress, pain or sadness. Those were the traits that were missing only to show up a bit later on in life. This assignment forced me to really go back in time and look at things as an adult, from what used to be a child’s perspective.
Unfortunately, as I got older, those negative traits developed. I used to think that if you worried about something, then maybe it won’t happen because you have already suffered from the experience. Sort of like paying your dues in advance but it really doesn’t make sense.
I now know that worrying isn’t going to prevent anything from happening. It’s not going to make it better so I decided that it’s ok to worry but when I worry, I take the worrisome thought and put it in an imaginary capsule inside of me. I imagine that it’s almost like a vitamin capsule filled with black powder because the worry is dark and it’s negative, but it’s contained.
The capsule is sealed and if I need to let it out a little, I can. But for now, I am choosing to keep it (the worrisome thought) in it’s container where it will not affect me so I can move on with a positive outlook.