My writing and thoughts were disconnected. One thought ran into another, or worse yet – the thoughts that came out one after another had no reasoning to be with each other at all. The writing was scribbles and yelling on the page. I couldn’t get my perspective back into order. Then all of a sudden, I began to write the depths of my fears on the page. I began to blurt out the whole memory from the beginning. My writing evened out and became more legible with each thought of the horrible memory that I began putting down in ink. Somehow my writing of these memories were cathartic. Somehow I found my voice!