(no subject)
I bought a Rod Stewart cd the other day for no reason other than to quench some nostalgic thirst, to touch upon a simpler time in my life.
So Rod Stewart, wafting from the speakers, poignant childhood recollections spiraling into an orchestra I could embrace, or avoid, with one earnest fast-forward press. I remembered having feelings of intense anger toward someone once, and my mother told me to avoid a rash confrontation with that person and instead write in a journal every single thing I felt without any filter. She told me to write it as a letter, addressed to that person, then to throw it away, or save it but don't share it. I can remember sitting red-faced and sob soaked digging my pen to the paper and writing every swear word I knew in my journal. While those feelings wouldn't be exposed, I did feel quite a release. Essentially my mother introduced me to the use of writing as an outlet, and to embrace the privilege of having a soul of my own, one I could hide in whenever I wanted to. While her advice was quite powerful, I think it may have hindered me in later years from confronting people I was really upset with, and enabled me to hide in anonymous journals. Something to consider as I reflect upon some of the relationships I've had recently that went to shit- most of their demise I think can be attributed to our indirect language with eachother, and me brewing resentment for the other person not already knowing how I felt.
So Rod Stewart, Maggie May, a song my mom used to sing to me often as a kid, especially to wake up in the morning, as the recurring line is "wake up maggie". But while childhood was more simple, I think it was more painful in a sense that any feeling I experienced (anxiety, fear) was alarmingly scary and without explanation. I was not exposed to the attempted rationale for emotions that I have come to know so intimately in my 20's. Instead it was just me, a child floating in the universe, experiencing what only felt like a foreign pain then.
Just a recent observation of mine.
So Rod Stewart, wafting from the speakers, poignant childhood recollections spiraling into an orchestra I could embrace, or avoid, with one earnest fast-forward press. I remembered having feelings of intense anger toward someone once, and my mother told me to avoid a rash confrontation with that person and instead write in a journal every single thing I felt without any filter. She told me to write it as a letter, addressed to that person, then to throw it away, or save it but don't share it. I can remember sitting red-faced and sob soaked digging my pen to the paper and writing every swear word I knew in my journal. While those feelings wouldn't be exposed, I did feel quite a release. Essentially my mother introduced me to the use of writing as an outlet, and to embrace the privilege of having a soul of my own, one I could hide in whenever I wanted to. While her advice was quite powerful, I think it may have hindered me in later years from confronting people I was really upset with, and enabled me to hide in anonymous journals. Something to consider as I reflect upon some of the relationships I've had recently that went to shit- most of their demise I think can be attributed to our indirect language with eachother, and me brewing resentment for the other person not already knowing how I felt.
So Rod Stewart, Maggie May, a song my mom used to sing to me often as a kid, especially to wake up in the morning, as the recurring line is "wake up maggie". But while childhood was more simple, I think it was more painful in a sense that any feeling I experienced (anxiety, fear) was alarmingly scary and without explanation. I was not exposed to the attempted rationale for emotions that I have come to know so intimately in my 20's. Instead it was just me, a child floating in the universe, experiencing what only felt like a foreign pain then.
Just a recent observation of mine.