It was one year ago yesterday that I started writing this
blog and I can’t believe how much water has gone under the bridge since then.
When I started writing my blog I was at a crossroads in my life. Trying to
decide what I was going to do with myself after having lost my job. Searching
for answers to the meaning of my life. And I still am but in different ways.
I sit back in wonder sometimes about the paths my life has
taken me on. Sometimes so very different to what I had envisioned. I think
about the first post that I wrote and how quickly I learnt the written word can
be hurtful to others even when we don’t intend to hurt them. The power of the
pen can be both damaging and enlightening. Deciphering which why to write has been
liberating for my soul because I have discovered how much I really and honestly
do love to write.
And interestingly I now know there is a pattern for me about
writing. It is something that allows me to journey freely with myself. Opens
doors to parts of me that would otherwise be closed. Reveals to me paths that
need to be taken in order to gain a greater understanding of who I am and what
I am here to do. But more importantly through my practice of writing every
single day I have become a more compassionate, empathetic, forgiving and
grateful person than I have ever been in my life because I am learning through
my writing every single day that every single person, event and circumstance
that comes into my life comes to teach me something about who I am and who I am
not.
To have rediscovered this passion that first began as a
young girl who used to walk around the house with a note book and pen writing
down stories of anything that interested me. To the teenager who went through
the darkest years of my life as a motherless daughter who again wrote about my
sadness for the first time in a Christmas story called ,The Shining Star, and
was told by my English teacher I had a gift. To a university student who almost
did not continue my passion of writing because I was told by a professor that I
was a terrible writer because I did not spell the American way nor did I use
their expressions. And being the sensitive human I am, I gave up writing for
many many years. Believing that I was no good at it and listening to others
tell me everyone wants to be a writer and no one makes any money from writing.
Listening to them telling me writers are dreamers not doers. So I gave up writing
in pursuit of a more sensible career – a corporate one and everyone was proud
of me because I was successful.
Only to rediscover when I had my son some
thirteen years ago and faced another major crossroad in my life- deciding if
I was going to stay at home and mother my son or pursue my corporate career –
that something deep within me was missing. So I chose to stay at home and
mother not just my son but myself as well. And in doing so I ended up
rediscovering my greatest passion of all – writing. And like a butterfly I went
through a great metamorphosis. Uncovering so many truths about myself, life,
being a mother, nature, freedom, expression, love, being a wife that I felt like I
had been reborn.
And here I am some thirteen years later and what I realise
now more than ever is writing is and always has been a part of who I am. I may
push it to the background from time to time but as I age I appreciate this gift
of writing I have been given. I appreciate how it makes me feel. And I know now writing is what is helping me to become the Woman of Grace I was sent here to be.
And for having written this blog for one year and to all
those friends who have followed me along the way, I am truly grateful. I will
continue with my gift until I am meant to stop. But until then I will enjoy
every piece of insight and wisdom I glean when I translate my life experiences
into my gift of writing. Joy unbounded. Gratitude multiplied. To have
discovered a passion is like having wings. Here’s to many more years of
writing.
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