And why the writer in me wants to tell it all
Everything that has happened to me is a story.
I’ve always felt this incredible desire to share my stories in hopes that they might bleed into the fabric of your story and perhaps transform you because that’s what stories do — they transform.
But I can’t tell it all to you.
I really want to. Trust me, I do. I have some juicy stories that will make you feel all sorts of crazy. I have some heartwarming tales that will melt your soul up. I have some hot and steamy sagas that will light you up, inside and out.
But I can’t tell it all to you.
When self-sabotage is a comfortable discomfort.
I wrote an article about an emotionally triggering event. It went viral.
I should have been ecstatic — over the moon, really. Instead, I was left with mixed feelings.
The earnings I made from that article paid for my rent and then some.
Instead of writing more to “earn more,” I wrote less and shockingly watched my reader stats and followers go up daily.
Let me unpack my mixed feelings one layer at a time.
Curious? Read on.
Writing is like lovemaking.
It requires foreplay.
It needs to flirt with thoughts and notes and voice memos throughout the day.
It needs to be needed — constantly.
Sometimes it wants to play rough and make you work for it.
Sometimes it wants to make love to you with soft kisses and gentle caresses all night long.
Sometimes it wants to tease you until you cum unexpectedly with a piece that is utter perfection.
Your words have power. Choose them wisely.
Gaslighting, Codependency, and Narcissism ring a bell?How about these:
10 Ways to Tell if You’re Being Gaslighted.
What to Do if You’re Dating a Narcissist.
How to Break the Cycle of Codependency for Good.
These titles are similar to the uncountable articles I see on a weekly basis by writers who have no mental health training whatsoever. Many of these terms (aside from gaslighting, which I’ll talk about later) are used when a therapist is diagnosing a client or as a specific part of treatment (i.e. codependency is a commonly used term in addiction treatment). These are words that any good therapist would never casually drop to a client in a therapy session — unless it was part of the client’s everyday lingo or they had a therapeutic intent for doing so, like offering psychoeducation on what narcissism or codependency is as it relates to the client’s mental health. A therapist would also never (well, they should never) diagnose someone that is not their client (i.e. saying the client’s spouse sounds like a narcissist would be an absolute no, no!).
Being a writer used to feel like a curse, until one traumatic event transformed it into a blessing.
Years ago I tried to give up writing when I realized all of my good work came from heartache and loss. I grew tired of squeezing my bleeding heart onto the page. I got caught up in the quick fix movement, you know, that self-help world where every author has found the key to some semblance of contentment.
I just wanted to be happy like everyone else.
How time and writing and single-parenthood come together on a yoga mat.
My mind put on boxing gloves as it awoke this morning. It knew it was on a time crunch. T-minus a few hours until my daughter would be picked up from her father’s house to spend the weekend with me. When she is with me, I can’t write.
With tight fists, my thoughts jabbed at me as I made my morning coffee. Hurry up and get writing. As I ate my cereal my mind gave me a little air punch to the gut. My bowl of cereal left me feeling hungry. Yet I dare not waste time eating more. Hurry up and get writing. The threat of a fight with my mind sent a shiver down my spine.
Motherhood requires your full attention. Being a writer does too. Can writing and motherhood co-exist in a healthy way?
I think about writing all day.
As soon as I wake up and start scooping coffee into the filter, (Oh my that’s a sacred moment! The aroma! The sound!) the ideas start pouring in.
My deep in thought self suddenly hears a faint, then not so faint, “Mommy, can you come to the bathroom with me?” My 8-year-old doesn’t like to pee alone. My idea trance has ended. That writer bubble has been burst. My un-caffeinated body stumbles toward that little girl voice, “Yes honey, on my way.”
Soul Writer. Single Mama. Life ponderer. Nature Lover. Therapist. Introvert. HSP & Empath. Life is my playground and each day a blank canvas.