Writing Lessons


Why Do I Write?

I’ve wrestled with this question for a few weeks. And mostly what I can say is that Writing and I have a complicated and tumultuous relationship. I embrace Writing with open arms, but the same does not apply.

There are times Writing loves me, giving me what I need and desire. Words come easy, and my mind feels clear and happy. But other times, Writing betrays me, and often leaves me in the dark.

Those are the times I hate Writing. I hate how it abandons me indefinitely. I hate how it leaves me without notice. Words become cumbersome, and the joy Writing brought me diminishes. I feel cast out, unable to reopen communication with the one that I wish would take notice of me again.

Writing comes to me when it wants me. And I can’t force it. I have to be patient, with the hope that it will return.

But then Writing comes back to me, ready to make amends. It rushes to help fill my notebooks full of words, beautiful and sweet. And I soak it in, basking in the warmth Writing gives me. I feel whole again. I feel ready to supply the world with those wonderful, delicious words.

And for a while, everything feels good. For a while my world feels right.

But I am controlled by Writing, and it will happily remind me of my role. I am just the hand that puts the words to physicality. The ebbs and flows continue to own me. And so my lesson remains to love what I hate. To embrace what easily abandons me. Because without Writing, I’m only living as a shell of a woman. Without writing, my story will never come to be.

I allow myself to be used as an instrument, a pawn in Writing’s life. It serves as a blessing and a curse. Sometimes my days are empty of words, but others, the ones that make this relationship worth it, my pen runs until it’s dry from Writing’s generosity.

Oh, but I know we need each other. Our survival depends on Writing’s gift of words to my creativity. And Writing understands this. That’s why it will never be far away for long.


Whoosh. January is almost over. Already. At the very beginning of the year, I thought about making public New Year’s resolutions on this blog to try to push myself to be accountable, to get myself on a track of life that didn’t involve hating myself. But I didn’t. Instead, I closed my eyes. I inhaled and exhaled full diaphragm expanding breaths.

I grounded myself into the present and secured my heart in place. I thought about where I currently am, and what direction I’m moving. I thought about the past, and what lessons I was forced to face.

I realized that last year, my heart was beaten. It left 2015 with scars, dings, cracks, and puncture wounds. When December hit, I didn’t know if I would ever bounce back, and I didn’t know if I wanted to anymore. I had been dragged through that year, and the resulting burns seemed too much to overcome.

I’ve felt depression in the past. I’ve felt it work its way inside of me, and bury my heart so far down that it took years to dig back up. But even in the worst of times, and no matter how small it was, I had hope inside that kept the embers of my soul protected. Last year though, hope had abandoned me. Depression hit me hard, and every day was a new and devastating battle. The things that had haunted me came barreling up, with no intention to keep me safe.

I don’t think I would be here anymore if I didn’t have the support system I currently have. My husband carried me for the better part of a year. He dropped everything for me without asking, to help me in my time of need. My friends gave me shoulders to cry on, gave me understanding souls while I fumbled in the black. I admitted what was happening to my family, and they surrounded me with warmth when I couldn’t fuel my own. My counselor found my heart and breathed onto the dormant embers, and helped me light the fire to my soul, to my heart.

They all propelled me forward. They helped me make it to 2016.

At the beginning of January, I made the very big decision to burn the dead off of my insides. To acknowledge my past, and let it all go. My counselor was on board, and is currently helping me navigate what I’ve never had the strength to do before. She’s witnessed me cry, scream, mourn, and accept. She’s watched me change and figure out the hardest things I’ve kept buried. She’s helped assuage my fears as I’ve walked forward.

Eventually, I sat down and wrote down my hopes for my future with what my goals mean to me. I gave myself time to think about what I aspire to be, ever changing forward.

Today, I woke up after missing my alarm. I scrambled to get ready for work and shake off the drowsiness. After kissing my husband and my puppies goodbye, I ran out the door, down the stairs, and into my car.

And after I started driving to work, I realized how grateful I am.

I’m alive today because of people who wouldn’t let me quit.

Thank you.

Thank you.
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“I’m choosing happiness over suffering, I know I am. I’m making space for the unknown future to fill up my life with yet-to-come surprises.”
Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love