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Why do I write? |
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| By Anji Jones | ||
They lurk on the edges and fringes of my life, waiting. Waiting to catch me off guard, vulnerable, alone and needing comfort and not their nagging insistence of long ago hurts and slights and bullying. As I write them down a part of them releases their hold on me, I unravel a piece or lay back a layer that lets me know that I have survived these things. Each time although familiar a new aspect emerges, but it doesn't have quite the same power over me as it did before.
I can sit back and look more objectively. Sometimes with bewilderment, sometimes wonder. I know then that through my writing I am healing that inner part of me that has taken such a batteirng over the years. The wound is no longer a scar I keep picking at and making bleed. It begins to heal and almost, but not quite, disappear from view.
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