I fancy myself a bit of a writer.
So you can imagine how odd I found it that when tragedy struck I could not write.
I had no words.
As a matter of fact, I couldn’t read either. Or eat. I didn’t even want to watch television.
I just wanted to curl up on my couch and cry.
Actually I wanted to die.
Not that I wanted to kill myself but I really didn’t want to live with the pain anymore.
The pain was too much.
I opened the Hope Box that women from church lovingly put together for my daughter. It held lip balm, hand creme, tissues, a journal, a Bible, pamphlets on grief, and a book on hope.
I skimmed the pamphlets.
I opened my spiral-bound book to a blank page and stole words from the pamphlets.
Not understanding why.
The fog of grief.
Loss of caring.
Overwhelmed with sorrow.
Instead of writing my own words, I stole them from others who have traveled this path ahead of me.
Does it make it better?
Yes, I’d say that it feels better to know that others have put words to my pain. Although it embarrasses me as a writer that I cannot come up with my own words.
Maybe some day.
Some day I hope to write about this.
Some day I hope to share my journey from nightmare to walking once again with the living.
But until then, I will rely on others’ words.
Kimberley Payne’s writing relates raising a family, pursuing a healthy lifestyle, and everyday experiences to building a relationship with God. Through her work, Kimberley hopes to inspire women to live healthier lives that glorify God.