Why I Write

I started this blog when I was so frustrated and had no place to air out my feelings. Talking to a friend of mine after I shared one of my pieces with him and he told me to publish it in a blog. That my blog will be my own public private place, because despite what I thought, so many people are going through the same things I was. That we are more alike than we are different. And sometimes my openness can clarify out another person's situation.

Eventually I started sharing more, and more and became an active blogger. Then I disappeared for a year. In retrospect my absence has taught me so much about myself. I used to crave this freedom of speaking my mind. I hated wallowing in my own feelings and feeling so lost that even when I tried to string along two sentences I couldn't. I had misplaced that part of me who was fearless in her honesty and thoughts.

I like to believe that I have changed. One day when I was having a conversation with the committee in my head, I asked myself, what was my passion that could help me find release. Surprisingly, the one thing I missed the most was writing. Sometimes I feel proud when a piece I write gets a lot of reading, sometimes disappointing that no one reads. But no more. I restarted this for me. As an escape. As an exploration. As a hobby that gives my heart joy.

If through pieces I write I can make you feel something, a connection, an understanding, an appreciation, I would have been happy. If by reading my frustrations makes you feel less alone in your aloness, I would be honored that my simple words can alleviate the numbness of your situation.

I can isolate myself from my situation through my writing. I write because my sanity demands it. My heart craves it. I write because I must. 

Starting Over

I have been absent for a long time. From writing. From my  simple passion.

The contradictory part was that I had so much time on my hands. So many thoughts, so many things going on. So much to write about But I could not string two sentences together.

As I had turned my back on writing I had done the same in all other aspects of my life. Built more walls to see who would care enough to break them down.

I had been through to hell and now I am back. I am still standing.

I am not whole anymore as how I knew myself. This woman I have become I do not know who is all the time. She is new to me.

She is more reserved. More outspoken. More uncensored. More reserved. Such a walking breathing and living contradiction.

This woman is now responsible for another human being. It is a big responsibility. I feel that I am already failing but I am willing to take guidance. I try to remember that a mother is born the day the child is born, so I cut myself some slack.

On how I look, it depends on the day. Most days I love myself. Some days I hate how I have come to look. The constant criticism gets to me. I am human.

All the things I knew about love wasn't enough. I am learning so much more of the deep capacity of my heart to love. Sometimes love is simply being there. Silent. Giving and until there is nothing left to give, and then giving some more.

I want to breathe new life to this space. Write more. Share more. Explore more. Live more.