A Decade in the Making

As I scroll through social media, I see many people doing the #10year challenge; and I can’t help but reflect on my past decade.
During my last year of middle school, I sought an escape from those awkward years. I can remember counting down to my eighteenth birthday because I thought life would become so much easier for me. That’s a massive joke in hindsight. But I was constantly overwhelmed with emotions and felt I had no authentic outlet to release them.
So my secret journaling began. I started to place all of my negative emotions on paper. I would write poems or short rants about whatever was on my mind. I would sit in my room, play music, and write my heart out. I would share wild stories and talk about secret loves that I knew would never happen. You can call it a diary, but it seemed different.
My journal became my truth, an unfiltered version of me that wasn’t shy or afraid of judgment. I often reread my journals and love seeing how my words and thoughts have matured. Over the years, I’ve healed from some insecurities and begun to have faith in myself. It’s bittersweet to read about all my pain over the past ten years, but it reminds me of my strength.
I know the day I started writing in a random notebook, that young teenage girl never would believe our thoughts and words would evolve into a blog. But here I am, turning my random journal entries into blog posts. u know as I scroll through social media, I see a lot of people doing the #10year challenge; and I can’t help but reflect on my past decade.

During my last year of middle school, I was seeking an escape from those awkward years. I can remember counting down to my eighteenth birthday because I thought life would become so much easier for me, that’s a huge joke in hindsight. But I was constantly overwhelmed with emotions and felt like I had no real outlet to release them. 

So my secret journaling began. I started to place all of my negative emotions on paper. I would write poems or short rants of whatever was one my mind. I would sit in my room, play music and write my heart out. I would share wild stories and talk about secret loves that I knew would never happen. I guess you can call it a diary, but it never seemed that way to me. 

My journal became my truth, an unfiltered version of me, that wasn’t shy or in fear of judgment. I often look back and reread my journals and love seeing how my words and thoughts have truly matured with me. How over the years I’ve healed from some insecurities and began to have faith in myself. It’s bittersweet to read all of the pain I’ve felt over the past ten years, but it reminds me of my strength. 

I know the day I started writing in a random notebook, that young teenage girl never would believe our thoughts and words would evolve into a blog. But here I am turning my random journal entries into blog posts.