I had an insightful conversation (which you may or may not be able to listen to soon) that kept me up for a bulk of the night thinking.
Thinking and reassessing my journey and realizing how writing and storytelling came to be so important to me. I mean, after all, the meaning of one of my given names is ‘Poet’, but besides that, for the past few years, writing has become an integral part in how I function, how I connect and share with people, how I’ve been able to live in my truth.
After this conversation, I remembered a time before this stage in my life, a time in my teenage years when I found the joy of creative writing for school, for fun, not as a necessity.
This was a time before, quite honestly, I lost my way, became dependent on drinking and did everything in my power to keep myself down the path I was spiraling on. While thankfully this time period didn’t last long and old habits have since been put to bed, many aspects of my life were impacted and through the trauma of it all, I lost that joy I had in writing and storytelling. I suppressed much of what I could during that period to get…through.
Until these past few years of spiritual awakening, growing and becoming.
When I tapped back into writing last year, it was because I found myself buried beneath the weight of the world, struggling to process loss, grief, sadness, anger, heartache, you name it, from two important aspects of my life. I couldn’t get the words together in any sense to speak verbally. After feeling trapped in a realm of pain that was bleeding into all facets of my life, writing became the tool to dig through the weight.
And I’m so thankful it came back to me when it did.