The Power of Words

I fear this statement is myself being a bit of a broken record but words mean a lot to me. Perhaps even more so the written word. Or even in these days the text based. Now I tend to cringe at most compliments. I don't mean to but it's a general reflex. I used to combat them verbally all the time but I've learned to take in most of them. I am far from perfect but usually I take them graciously with a smile and just beat myself up in my head. The closer I am to you, the more struggle I put up. This is a defense mechanism to perfection. I do not consciously do it. It's partly out of necessity. At least that's what my brain tells me.

I write on this blog purely for myself. I'm not trying to create beauty or show some hidden cavern of my mind to the world. I write on here because it's an escape. I have a little journal in my purse for much of the same reason. Ever since I could write I've been praised for it. I've won contests and teacher's admiration. But even then I didn't keep writing because I thought I was good. On the contrary, I never understood the praise. I wrote because it was so much easier than speaking. I wrote because I felt something when I did. I wrote because it made me happy.

In 6th grade when my depression really started to get to me I wrote more. I wrote through journals faster than probably people could ever read them. I began writing my book toward the end of that same year. I wrote poems. I wrote short stories. I wrote every emotion I felt. And then I burned it all.

In 7th grade I had an amazing English teacher. We had to journal every day and at the end of the week we'd turn them in and he'd read them and write comments and return them to us on Monday morning. At first I was cautious about what I wrote. I didn't allow just anyone to read what I had to say. But slowly I opened up and Mr. Tolbert noticed. Each page was me telling my story and that wonderful man treated me like it was the only story that mattered. His comments were detailed and sweet. They were encouraging and wise. He made me feel like I wasn't alone in the world.

On my desk taped to my CD rack is a bright pink sticky note. The piece of tape on it is over 8 years old, but it still sticks just fine. On it are Mr. Tolbert's words.
"The passion with which you write is so deep, so powerful. I feel right along with you. You are an amazing writer and an even greater person." There are few words that have ever meant so much to me.

I'm saying all of this right now because my Abnormal Psychology professor just left a comment on something I wrote that meant a lot, too. It wasn't anything like Mr. Tolbert gave me but it's something that built me up too. Now I know I want to be a youth minister though I'm not sure for how long. If the world of pyschology has anything down the road for me I'm not sure, but my professor's words were encouraging. She said that "You write so professionally yet with the essence of heartfelt meaning that so many other's lack. You tap into concepts and ideas that mostly everyone forsakes. It is clear that you are engaging with the material beyond what is being published in the text. I am not sure what your aspirations are but a patient would be very fortunate to have you as their clinical psychologist."

I am left a little speechless.