I am what you would call a ‘word person’, I process happiness, sadness, love, grief and every nuances of emotions using words. Growing up, most days were spent with a book or writing something in my journal. But, only last few years made me realise how therapeutic words can be. It was a period where I felt that I experienced so much pain and loss and I tend to suffer in silence. Words became my personal therapist, helping me cope and grow.
As I wept through the nights grieving, stories that I have read of love and loss kept me company. The poems I read kept me hopeful and my own love letters kept me sane. That is how I coped. There is magic when someone translates their journey into words and shares it. That is akin to sharing an intimate part of themselves, and sending it out to the world for judgement. There is courage in that, humility too. A recognition that humanity is diverse and full of various perspectives, stories of human experiences are diverse. In those stories, we find similarities and eventually a spark of hope.
I have always struggled to tell me story, I carry them within me. I have always allowed my insecurities to stop me from sharing the parts of me that are most vulnerable. But, I want to give my words a chance. For words have magic in them, they heal and give hope.