Pause to Breathe is a real story. It is my story.
I have stopped writing the story for a while as I am trying to work out a bit on the structure of the incidents. I don’t want to go put events in the order that they happened. I want it to be more how you start with one thing and then you get into another thing and then you dive deeper and deeper. It should look like how a mind works.
Last week, I met two of my schoolmates and we started talking about good old days. We revived memories and joked about the times gone by.
The next day, I recalled a part of our conversation where one of them tried to make fun of how I disliked teachers because they did something wrong to me.
No, this post is not about why the teacher shouldn’t have done what they did or about where my friend failed to understand my dislike for that teacher. That’s a story for another time.
Naturally, I tried to recreate the conversation in hopes of coming up with better answer to defend my dislike for that teacher.
Then my thoughts wandered to another teacher we had talked about. Out of nowhere, I recalled an incident which was an important part of my story (Pause to Brreathe) but I had completely forgotten that it happened. It was buried somewhere deep inside in my memory.
The revival of this memory helped me to connect more dots. I was reminded of a WhatsApp chat that had more details not just about the incident but about my story as a whole. It was quite a long conversation over a period of 24 hours (Yes, I talk a lot on chats. I am an insane serial-typist!!) and I’m yet to complete reading it.
If you’ve been keeping up with my Medium blogs, you know that I have taken initiative to start conversations around mental health. I have opened up about my story with some people in the last few months. While sharing my story, I knew I remembered the most important incidents and had forgotten the less important ones that connected them. And for doing justice to my story and myself, I need to have the connecting links too.
This whole episode made me realise that I should write more because my brain has buried more memories than I can ever think.
I am trying to maintain a habit of writing a daily journal. It’s not just about what all happened on a particular day, but also about what I thought about, or a revived memory or anything. I don’t know if I’ll be regular because I have tried it in the past and horribly failed. But this time I have a stronger reason to write.
Do you have a daily journal?
Do you think writing helps you understand yourself better?
Do you revisit your old journals?