Supression Repression

I am working on my final project for my Open Media class. As I was in the photo finishing room looking at photos I had taken of my journals I had dug out of my old antique box and spread them all over the floor in my hallway of my house, I thought to myself, what does this all mean, this project I have decided to undertake.

I headed to the colour photo room and started the scanning process of some the journals that have more significance to me and writings that belonged to my late husband.

While I was finishing this up, a friend came in that I really don't know all that well, but I somehow feel I have known her all my life because I deeply sense she is a very compassionate human being. She asked me what I was working on. I began to briefly attempt to explain what it was I was doing and about the project. As I talked, I found myself beginning to get emotional because this project involves a story, my story. Everyone has a story to tell. I am grateful and fortunate I have my journals to tell me mine and I can share them with others. She listened intently to what I was saying and then we both found ourselves getting emotional. I suddenly realized why this project was important for me.

I learned in the past the difference between suppression and repression. I got an early start at suppression which eventually turned to repression. Writing for me is like peeling back the layers of repressed feelings mostly around grief and loss. There are many reasons I write but I think for me this is the most relevant and meaningful.

It's strange and serendipitous how life and circumstances happen. When we least expect a lesson, we learn one. It takes us by surprise most of the time, this is the way it works usually for me. I was always fond of the saying, when the student is ready the master will appear. My master appeared today and lesson learned. Thank you Paula.