Читать книгу A Diary of Secrets - Deb Shugg - Страница 3

In 1997 as a way of emptying myself of a pain that nagged me constantly I picked up a notebook and a pen and began to write.

The confusion that overwhelming anxiety and fear were creating in me couldn’t be explained. There was no-way I could voice the most ridiculous situations that were stopping me dead in my tracks and causing me to run home to safety.

So I just said it to myself in a journal. Mostly when I wrote stuff down it was rambling incoherent scribble that, when reading back, was often difficult to decipher.

I didn’t often read back what I’d written. Not immediately anyway. And, often when I picked up my pen the words would rush out so fast that I thought I wouldn’t be able to stop. But then, after pages of disjointed sentences and thoughts, my mind would stop and the words would diminish and I would have a few moments of peace before the outside world would come crashing back in. Other times only a sentence or two would make it out.

On occasions I would beg for answers, other times poetry or prose might make its way to the page but in all of that writing I never expected a day would come when I would share what was in there.

But, here it is!

I’ve transcribed my journal in the hope of sharing something deeper than the usual 10 steps to getting better. I wanted to help others who, like me, felt stupid or even crazy! If that’s you, you’re neither stupid nor crazy.

If it’s not you, but you know someone who’s severely depressed, has extreme anxiety, or is suffering from the effect of a trauma in their life, then this is to help you understand that the person you care about is as confused and frustrated by their condition as you and if snapping out of it was possible, that’s exactly what they’d do.

The truth is that the process of healing can be long and slow but it’s not impossible. We weren’t designed to live a life of fear and sadness.

You may find that some entries are reflective and others an expunging of built up turmoil. Some are present tense and some are past tense. But, it’s not intended to read like a prize-winning novel.

It’s intended to read like the journal that it is.

I apologise for having to edit some parts when it was necessary to protect others or give it readability.