Rants, ravings, and the madness of a mad woman

I've never been the type to keep a journal. Okay, so I tried once when I was a kid, but more often than not all of my writings ended up being an outlet for my frustration, angst, and anger (not the same as angst. I looked it up just to be sure). I'd also like to think that all of those feelings were something that was due to me being an adolescent, but that's not the case either. I still feel that way on occassion. And that is mostly where some of my problems lie.

I grew up in a family of 8 children and 2 parents. So 9 people total, not including myself. I remember sneaking my older sister's diary and reading it. I don't remember what any of it said, but I do remember it had a lock on it and had Toys R Us stickers on the inside (unless I'm making it all up).

Several years later, my mom gave each of us a Journal for us to write in. I went from writing in it almost daily, to weekly, to monthly, and even a few other posts years apart. I even still have it.

I gave up writing in a journal for a number of years until I decided to take it up again. It was different this time though. My grandfather had passed away and he was the one person I felt truly loved me. (I think all of my siblings felt this way though and I think that was a gift to each of us.) I felt so...everything. There were rarely moments of happiness though (or at least that I would ever make mention of). I took pen to paper and would tell my grandpa about all of the 'unfair', cruel things that were happening in my life.

This opportunity to get things down on paper was a gift for me. Most people had told me in lessons that a journal should be focused on all of the happy, positive things in my life and that by writing negative thoughts that was all you would dwell on. It wasn't though. I wrote down my thoughts and rarely revisited them. I continued writing to my grandpa for several years until I met a cute boy. Someone I could and did talk to. I couldn't tell him everything though. A) It would have probably terrified him and B) That would have embarrassed me far beyond anything else in my life. So I began writing him 'letters' about my day, thoughts, and anything else I wanted to say.

Writing helped me process some of the crazy thoughts that ran through my head or situations I encountered as a teenager. I was far too logical to act out or rebel in any way. Not because I didn't want to, but mostly because any act of revenge I could tie back to hurting me or potential opportunities. (Yup, fail as a teenager.)

I'm sure most of you (Yes, 'you' is all inclusive and imaginary in this sentence.) are wondering what any of the above paragraphs have to do with anything.
A) Blogging is an outlet for me.
B) Sometimes writing pen to paper is WAY better, but terrifies me. The things I write on paper are an outlet for my soul. They're not meant for anyone other than me. (So if you are the parent, sibling, spouse who stumbles on anyone's writings tred carefully and approach any topic discussed therein VERY carefully because the first reaction you'll likely get is a defensive outlashing.)
C) There are any number of frustrating, angsty, and angry things that still run around in my head. I think the only reason I don't write or blog about them is because I'm worried that my feelings and/or opinions will get out there and that others will use them to inflict damage to relationships and pain to individuals. Others will pick them up and hold them to them like a talisman to justify their actions and thoughts towards me or other individuals.

So yeah...I've got a number of crazy things that occur in my life. Crazier things that run around in my head. And I am the person trying to be the floodgate. Yes, I think too much. I feel too much. And I'm just trying to make a semblance of sense out of bits and pieces of it.

Write what you want...in a safe place. (Mine was a 3 subject notebook.)
Remember that most people are NOT trying to inflict pain. They just may not understand or may not know how to express their emotions in words.
And know that everyone else has their own madness they are trying to wrestle too.