Giving My Words Wings
Why I started sharing my writing
For years I’ve been writing. Mostly when I’m sad. Correction: mostly when I’m devastated. It helps me process, it helps me heal and it makes me feel alive. When I am happy and optimally functioning, I tend to feel less inspired. When I am sad and in the midst of struggle and inquiry, however, I am profoundly in touch with my emotions, deeply connected to my inner wounds, and explicitly able to convey them.
I wrote often and a lot as my marriage fell apart. I wrote about shattered hopes and dreams, about the strong woman who had lost her voice and about the reemerging one I was becoming through the gruelling journey that is divorce.
I wrote about the week I ate nothing but Cheerios and champagne and called it an acceptable meal and about the night my friend swept me off my floor; crying, beer in hand, after not having eaten for three days while packing up my family home. I was a mess, a hot mess! I wrote about the evening I drove around town wondering where I would live, unable to breathe through my anguish and tears. I wrote the day we moved out of our big beautiful house and into the much smaller rental I am now proud to call our happy little home.
