✨ My Life Steps… Fingers to Keys
April 25, 2015
I know this may come as a shock to you…
but I’m a talker. 😊
I think I’ve always been this way—always had the need to share. Before I ever blogged a word, I filled handwritten journals with bits of my day-to-day life. The good. The hard.
Writing was—and still is—how I get the words out of my head so I can move on to the next new whatever.
When computers became “the thing,” my journaling turned into something a little sillier and more social. I wrote on Yahoo360, sharing tidbits and connecting with others who also needed a place to let it all out. Then came Multiply, where I continued to document my life—one day at a time.
Then… my tragedy happened.
And writing became something different.
It became my crutch, my release, my survival.
Day in and day out, I poured everything into words. I can still see myself at my desk in the dark, typing out the heartbreak of the day… grammar, spelling—none of it mattered.
Just anguish.
Pain.
And so many tears.
A friend of mine—an editor by trade—read those entries daily and stood by me during those times. Later, when I started rereading some of what I wrote, I was shocked at how badly I butchered the English language. He laughed when I brought it up and told me how often he had the urge to correct a few things—but chose not to.
Because that was me.
Raw. Unedited.
When Multiply changed from a blogging platform to sales, I had to migrate all of my posts to BlogSpot. Unfortunately, everything imported out of order. And so now, I’ve been slowly, one by one, transferring all 1,740 entries back into their rightful place.
Yes, I read each one.
Yes, I fix the typos.
And tonight, as the sun sets, I find myself laughing at the stories I’m up to.
Sure, there are the days where the pain is heavy and evident—
but thankfully, there are also days of light.
It’s interesting to reread my own life steps—like peeking into forgotten corners of my heart. Some moments make me smile. Others, I wish I could forget. But all of them?
They are mine.
Pieces of what make me, me.
And tonight, as I sit here with my fingers to the keys, I find myself wondering…
Do others do this too?
Do you keep a journal of your life—pen to paper, or fingers to keys?
And if you do… why?
Sending hugs,
Tessie