Who…Me? A writer… wait, me?!
What if I told you that I used to destroy everything I wrote, that I was scared to show anyone my truths, that I thought it was all shit. I was sure that he was right, that I was insignificant and small, and that my words had no impact.
And then someone challenged me to start keeping my written words. I was so handicapped by the thought of someone finding the inner workings and chaos of my brain, the thought of keeping any of it, being found, stopped me from writing at all. But I learned in that time, that this is me. I cannot stop, I can not change this fundamental part of me. I am compelled to share. The thoughts that flow from me, play over and over like someone set me up on repeat all until I get them out. Some I share, and some I save, usually to protect someone else. But writing is healing me.
Every email, note, text, conversation, share, like, and call (sorry if I missed anything) from all of you, has slowly chipped away at that old wall. Every person I reach, every person that finds my words resonating with them, frees me. Everyone I help, in any way, makes every second of suffering worth it.
I will never forget my supporters, my constructive critics, hell even the nay-sayers… you all reinforce my strengths.
This is only the beginning!