Louder Than Words

I had few healthy ways of dealing with high school life. By high school life, I mean life. By had few healthy ways, I mean have no healthy ways. Basically, I’m reiterating the fact that my coping skills suck and I’m not a good writer and I’m close to giving up.

(Flawless introduction, I know.)

A mix of hating whatever string of words fell out of my mouth (or pen or keyboard or whatever), and having a lot of issues left me desperate to find an outlet. Blank notebook pages have always been an inspiration for me, and though I hated my writing skills, my stick figure skills allowed me to start my “visual journaling”.

I had a very particular brand of notebook, sets of pens, markers, and crayons, and had very specific rules for dating content and how I best utilized the pages. Other than these rules I set, it was anything goes.

I had better luck expressing thoughts, or moods I guess, through visuals. I was proud of almost all those pictures. Some pages had words to help express my feelings, other pages had no words, and every now and then I had a page full of words.

Then, my already pretty-bad depression got even worse, so I burned all the notebooks and told myself I’m an unartistic loser head and put down imagery for almost 6 years. My most recent therapy session helped remind me of how useful of an outlet it was. So I’m kind of back into it. I made 4 “entries” the first night.

Hopefully it’ll be therapeutic again. That’d be cool. (The power of the stress compels me.)

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