My writing became an obsession

I should have had someone I could tell but with all the fear I felt, I'm not sure I would have told anyone. The fear would paralyze me. I sat in my closet and cried for hours after he'd leave my room. I hid under my bed, laying still and quiet hoping he wouldn't find me. I needed to talk about it.

I became obsessed with writing everything down and drawing the truth of my life. The entries got more and more disturbing until I had a hard time opening the book. Every time I accidentally opened the pages to an earlier writing I'd quickly look away to avoid the fear I felt at seeing them. My stomach would knot, my heart would race and my head would ache. I'd begin the shake and cry. I feared for my life as if the event was happening again and again and as if the acts I dreamed of doing were real. I didn't know what a panic attack was then but I recognized the feeling now.

My sister and I shared a room. Going outside was one of the only places I could be alone. Sometimes I'd sit outside and write and think. There were times I hid my book in the yard for easy access for me and less accessibility for others.

I started putting paperclips on the pages so they wouldn't flip open. In time my book was heavy with several paperclips. I ran out of paper and taped a second book to the first. I was afraid if I tried to hide them both separately I would forget where I put one and someone would be able to find it. I didn't want anyone to see something so personal. If it were found and read I would have to explain why I wrote what I wrote and why I drew what I drew. I slit a small hole in my mattress on the side against the wall and slid it in the hole under the mattress. I feared I'd get in trouble for having a hole in my mattress.

As time went on the writing became a daily thing. My obsession to write was taking over my life. I'd wake up in the night and write, write before I went to bed, I'd often wish I had my book at school and then be grateful I didn't when I thought of actually having it where someone might be able to see it. It was like if I could get things right on paper they would be right in my world as well. I needed healing, my world needed healing and I didn't know how to make that happen. I became so crazed with the idea that I could make things change by writing them down. Then the realization hit that I couldn't change anything by writing it down. I eventually put the book away. Hid it is a place everyone would see and nobody would notice. I began to visualize changes I wanted in my mind instead of writing.For a while I was able to stop writing all together. Eventually I'd pull it out to document the really bad things just to help me keep my sanity. The visualizations were working for me. My obsession with writing faded to a manageable level.