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In all my life I never used to write … anything.

Homework Session

Homework Session (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Unless you count the homework in third grade which I wrote as a poem.So maybe there was a little creativity there even back then.

In the time since I started writing as an adult … November 2011 … the writing has fallen into four distinct levels.

All of which are good for therapy.

Level One – The Book

nano2012Okay, so “It was a dark and stormy night” was indeed the first line I wrote.

Theoretically I was participating in Nanowrimo for the month of November. But reality was that I was just pouring out my heart into a document.

Of course the protagonist was a fifty-something woman who had just lost a great love. And the protagonist was a sleazy honorable man who left her.

There were other characters and something vaguely resembling a plot … but let’s be honest … it was therapy.

And I participated again this past November, as well. Slightly less therapy … more “Can I really write?”

Level Two – The Blog

This.

The Happy Holly Project. In which I do something each day for no other reason than to be happy. To feel better. To get out of myself and back to the land of the living.

Suggested by a friend … supported by friends … encouraged by friends.

Therapy.

And here you thought I was writing because I love you, my constant reader. And here it has really been all about me. But you are welcome … even encouraged … to read what I write here.

After all, the fact that people are kind enough to read what I write … and return again … and read some more … is one of the things about this blog that really make me happy.

But here I share things that make me happy. And not everything makes me happy.

Level Three – The Private Diary

Prayer flags
Prayer flags (Photo credit: TiagoPereira)

Enter the Private Diary … where the things that decidedly do not make me happy are dumped.

Things that never see the light of the Happy Holly Project.

After the Month of November and Nanowrimo were done, I realized how much writing … typing actually … helped me.

And I wanted to continue writing.

So I dragged out a web site that had been dormant … more or less … and began writing what I pictured as the internet version of Asian Prayer Flags.

A Dear God letter, so to speak.

You know.

Dear God,

I feel bad.
I want to feel good.
Send help.

Love,
Holly

That type of thing.

And although it is private, there have been people who have seen it … some by accident … some on purpose.

And where The Book was a myriad of grief for a month, and the Happy Holly Project is happy things … this Private Diary is a dumping ground for all things miserable. And the occasional pondering.

Therapy.

Since I decided to “work through” my grief, rather than carry around something that made me sad, I would go to the Private Diary … type out my thoughts … random and transient though they may be … dump them … and I felt better.

The pages of the Diary looked disastrous … and certainly are no great work of literature … but they have helped me immensely.  Running the gamut from “Oh how could he” to “I miss him totally” to “That dirty miserable …” to “What should I make for dinner” and back again.

I was quite surprised the other day … when I went out to look at the site statistics … something I had not done for a while … that there had been activity on the site. And frankly I don’t go out and reread the stuff often. I suppose search engines could be responsible …

So I went out the next day and wrote “Good Morning Stalkers … Have a Nice Day.”

Went out a few days later to look at the statistics.

No activity.

Level Four – Unproductive Thoughts

And sometimes you just want to rant and rave.

Therapy?

Or I may have gone a bit far afield in my Private Diary and have second thoughts.

So there is a Word Document on my beloved Netpad entitled Unproductive Thoughts” which contain totally random sentences, paragraphs, rantings, partial letters … nothing that would make sense.

But once I write it, I hate to just delete it.

So it goes there instead … and if it was in the Private Diary originally, in its place I type something like “Just wrote 200 words … changed my mind.”

Who would have ever thought that the written word would come to mean so much to me?

That it would be the means … along with a few people … to carry me through this whole process.

I recommend it … highly.

Writing

Writing (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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