By Eve Bell

Yesterday there was a stream of posts on Instagram entitled This Little Girl is Me to celebrate International Day of the Girl. I loved reading the posts. They were raw, funny and poignant.

It coincided with a powerful coaching session I had where I was challenged like I have never been before. I felt the nerve ping and the rawness envelope me.

I was back to being a little girl who loved books, the library but more than that, she loved her pen. I had the biggest nobble on my finger from where it rested. Because I wrote and wrote and wrote. I lost myself in the stories that I wrote.

I used my pen to escape into the rich colourful world of my imagination.

I used my pen to write letters to myself and then rip them up. Oh how I wish I still had those letters.

I used my pen to understand.

My pen still helps me do that. I use my pen to journal, which I do every morning. Sometimes it is about the small nuances in my day. The funny things the kids say. But some days my pen takes me to places I never knew I had hidden.

Today was one of those days.

I learnt about the power of words. How writing them uncovers things that need to be brought to the surface.

Serendipitously, I saw this quote today:

I do love quotes but some stop me in my tracks. Something, somewhere stopped me sharing my words and they lost their power.

I’m writing this post as a marker.

A marker in time when I start to give power back to my words.

Not just my pen.