a little less crazy today

Last night, on the advice of my therapist, I performed a ritual to rid myself of old baggage and emotions and STUFF.

A few night ago, I went thru my entire apartment and threw out (recyled even) all this paper I had been hanging onto - old greeting cards, tax forms, unfinished crossword puzzles, unread magazines. It was a very cleansing feeling to open up some space in my apartment as well as in my soul (in a metaphorical sense). I found a bunch of journals I had kept, some since I was a senior in high school. It felt toxic to touch them and I was even more afraid to open and read them. So I wiped the dust of them and returned them to their original hiding places.

I really wanted to get rid of them but I have this irrational fear that someone would find them and read them and all my crazy would be exposed.  So I told my therapist about this and he suggested I burn them to say goodbye to all the old issues and emotions contained on those pages. After arguing with him about my concerns for fire safety, we agreed that I could just tear them up and recycle the paper. Oh! And we agreed I could drink wine while doing so.  haha

Here is my pile of journals and my glass of wine, laid out, waiting for this journey to begin. I call this picture "Whole Lotta Crazy".

 

I peeked into the first journal (written when I was 17 yrs old) and found a bunch of poetry I had written and/or collected, and I tore a page out that had an original poem on it. I ventured to read a few more pages after that. But then I got to the page where I wrote that my dad called me a whore and I wrote "FUCK YOU BASTARD" in all caps and then a few pages later where I wished he would die in a horrible accident [not to worry, he died many years after I made that wish]...and I decided to stop reading. Can you blame me? It's hard to look back at what an angry little girl I was.

I started tearing pages out and ripping them in half and then half again. It became more hypnotic than cathartic. But a few journals later (this one was written in 2007), when I happened to stop at the page where I wrote about my dad dying, I cried. It was the only time I cried during the whole process (but I'm crying a little now as I type this). I tore out that page and saved it as well.

Here is a pic of almost 20 years of my crazy in a pile. I call it "Less Crazy Now".

In all, I saved three pages. The third one was written in 2001, right before I started seeing my first therapist, and contained a list of my issues I wanted to work on. I am seeing a new therapist now and I am disappointed to report that old list of issues still pertains to the present.

What does any of this have to do with monsterami, you ask?  Not a whole lot... I guess what I am trying to illustrate is that where there is creativity, there is oftentimes some crazy, too.  Sometimes a lot. haha

Happy to report that I feel a little less crazy today.  :)