The crazy thing with writing is the fact that it's something physical; it's something that can be deleted but left alone it will stay there for weeks, months and even years. For some strange reason, I was drawn back to this blog that I started in a low moment in my life and reading back over the blogs that I churned out, I am a little amazed at how much emotion and love I poured into every post. It's funny that in a world where most of us are closed off, voluntarily, there's a place where we all feel safe enough to say it how it is, to tell our deepest emotions to complete strangers. That was definitely the appeal for me when I started this blog but something in my life has changed from that 18 year old girl who was just joining the big, bad world entering the unknown that was University.
I'm not saying that I've become a different person because I haven't at all, I still have those memories and scars from that time but the past year of my life has held much more important and heart-wrenching sadness that the problems I had before seem almost minuscule. And now I'm facing going into my final year of University and thinking back over the last year.The worst pain I've ever felt in my life was losing my Nan last summer; I hadn't truly understood how people got depressed to a point where the world seemed like helpless but I hand on heart entered the world where the cloud of darkness didn't seem to dissipate regardless what I did; I had become depressed after losing my Nan. During my second year of Uni, two months after losing my Nan, I had to move back to Cardiff from London and be completely alone 3 hours away from my family. Trying to juggle life, Uni and grief is something that I failed at, I could never balance them out perfectly; but despite how far into the depths of sadness I went, I never gave up. I struggled through and even managed to keep my grades up fairly well given the circumstances. Granted, I cried myself to sleep every night and didn't see the point in smiling when the world looked so bleak. But I survived it and that's the one thing I forget when I think back to what I went through, I didn't give up; I survived whilst so many in the same situation hadn't. I think of myself as weak, but I know now that I hold some strength inside of me to overcome that.
Now, aged 20 and a year on, I can look back, I can see how much it served to make me open my eyes and realise how strong people can innately be. How strong I could be. As I sit here having read the previous blogs of struggle and thought back to more of my struggles, on a Saturday night at 11PM, I feel proud of myself; not only from what I managed to overcome but also because I realise that I have found something I love. Sometimes, I reread the things that I have written (on here, the quotes I create and the stories, complete and incomplete) and it feels like it has been written by a stranger, by a talented stranger because I honestly can't remember that I've written it. When I start my writing, for the stories I write in my spare time, I get lost in a world that is neither fiction nor reality, it is just a limbo where my heart rules my head. I don't think about every word I type, I just type and somehow my incoherent thoughts turn into something that I can only think of as quite magical. I know some people out there would disagree, and say that my writing isn't as good as I think it is. But isn't that the whole point of us having a passion? Isn't the whole point of loving something being that it is always there for us regardless whether we're amazing at it or shockingly bad? It's something that brings us happiness and no body can take that away from us. I know I'm not the best writing at all but it helps me so much and I don't know how I could ever have gotten through moments in my past without the medium of writing. I'm proud of myself, honestly and truly. How many people can put their hand on their heart and say that there's something that they do that they're proud of? It's my passion, my thing; my calling in life. It gives me a reason to continue doing what I love.
During the year that I've been absent from my blogging, I managed to finish a book and self-publish/print it off. It was one of the best feelings in my life being able to complete something that makes me happy and have it physically in my hands. And at the moment, I'm half way through another project. I know I won't make it as a bestselling author, but part of me dreams that one day I'll see my books on a shelf being read by people that escape to my world, my head and get a small glimpse into my heart.
One day...
Over and out, until next time,
Nicole (happier version)
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| My finished printed out book (apologies for the lack of horizontal picture) |
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