The last couple of months have been a rollercoaster of emotions for me, for a lot of different reasons going on in the background. During this time my inspiration was literally cut to nothing hence there were no blog posts. This saddened me because I absolutely adore writing, but it’s very difficult to write when there’s this big wall around your creativity. In my case this wall is depression.
So once I got tired of feeling terrible and in a crisis, I finally opened up to my friends and family and was well received with love, hugs and plenty of cups of tea (Which heals all wounds really). I decided to go back to my roots, visit family for a week retreat almost to get away from all the noise and chaos going on around me and in my head. As we were passing my family home I found something that awakened a flame amongst the darkened inner workings of my brain. It was a copybook, just like any other copybook that I used to use for primary school and then onwards for drawings, sketches, song lyrics. These were very easily disposable so I was quite confused when I saw one still very much intact.
All it had was a name on the front. No other doodles or lyrics were written on the cover which would have been a key sign that it was mine (courtesy of antsy pre-teen Holly). Now some people will read this and say this is incredibly morbid but I actually found it to be quite interesting and awakened something in me.
Basically inside this otherwise very basic copybook was writing from my mother (queue the sighs ‘here we go again Holly’) but this was very different. This wasn’t diary entries or letters. This was more ramblings and writing that just kept flowing from the heart. What was significant about this writing was these were written very close – last entry was two days before my mother passed away. The writing was derived from someone facing death and yet, accepting it. I don’t really need to go further into that because the words are truly precious.
However, it got me thinking. This copybook would have otherwise meant nothing to me. I could’ve easily thrown it in the trash if it were one of mine but suddenly this simple copybook became a treasure. It made me think that despite this simple outer shell, this copybook became something of awe and vulnerability.
We all have the same potential as this copybook, a blank canvas, and given the opportunity to write our stories and personalities on the inside. What we decide to write is what will show our true value in the end. If we don’t appreciate that value, then we’re simply throwing ourselves into a bin of no self-acceptance.
It got me thinking, the more I let this depression win over me, the more I lose the sense of who I am and where my story will take me. So now is the time to accept. Accept what has been, what is now, and what will be. It’s time to take the reigns of our life and write our stories, change our attitudes and carry ourselves through burdens with laughter, love, and hugs.
So yes, this is all over a simple copybook. But hey, we all get our inspiration from somewhere right?
Welcome to the next chapter, I promise you it’s going to be fun.