Why
I got asked a few times why I write these blogs. Why do I then share them publicly? The answer is not a short one nor is it an easy one. It's not a cry for help as some may think. It's simply a way of saying I understand.
I'm not the only person grieving. I'm not the only person who has lost a mom. I'm not the only person who has sat alone in public places crying over every day objects. But I have a platform and sometimes I have the words to share it. So I do. Because I learned a long time ago that the written word has the power to reach people. It has the power to bridge gaps and link people.
So often we see the internet and social media vilified for the negativity. But there is power there for good too. If it weren't for the marvels of technology I wouldn't have the ability to reach out to my best friends right now. In my darkest of moments, technology helps me to reach out to those that can help me turn on a light. And sometimes reading the words of someone else's story lets another know they aren't alone. They aren't struggling an unknown fight.
As a child, a young adult, a teenager and an adult, I've spent hours lost in the words of others' stories. Ask anyone who has spent hours with me and they can tell you that me reading is me in another world. If I have my nose in a book, the house could burn down around me and I wouldn't notice until the pages of my book were aflame. There is power in the written word. It can transport you to another time, another dimension. And it can take pain and sadness and dilute it just a bit. Because it makes you feel a little less solitary. You aren't the only human who has experienced this. You aren't the only person who loved the woman you lost.
If you spent as many hours as I did in Creative Writing classes and Literature classes in high school and college, then maybe the writing of the words is as cathartic as the reading. For me it takes the twisted, gnarled web of emotion and memory and paints pictures in a way I could never do with paints and a brush. It helps me to bring accuracy to what I'm feeling and makes it all so much easier to process.
And then I make it public. I've been reading for almost 32 years. And if all of those years of reading has taught me anything at all, it's that no matter how insignificant a writer, words still have value. They will still touch someone. And if they help one other person too, then it's worth it.
Grieving is a process. A delicate dance of the life you had before swaying and gliding into the one you have after. There is no clear cut beginning and ending of the two. They simply begin to meld into a new formation. And all you can do is keep dancing, sometimes just standing in place, as you move through the music. And for me, the music has always been about the words.
I'm not the only person grieving. I'm not the only person who has lost a mom. I'm not the only person who has sat alone in public places crying over every day objects. But I have a platform and sometimes I have the words to share it. So I do. Because I learned a long time ago that the written word has the power to reach people. It has the power to bridge gaps and link people.
So often we see the internet and social media vilified for the negativity. But there is power there for good too. If it weren't for the marvels of technology I wouldn't have the ability to reach out to my best friends right now. In my darkest of moments, technology helps me to reach out to those that can help me turn on a light. And sometimes reading the words of someone else's story lets another know they aren't alone. They aren't struggling an unknown fight.
As a child, a young adult, a teenager and an adult, I've spent hours lost in the words of others' stories. Ask anyone who has spent hours with me and they can tell you that me reading is me in another world. If I have my nose in a book, the house could burn down around me and I wouldn't notice until the pages of my book were aflame. There is power in the written word. It can transport you to another time, another dimension. And it can take pain and sadness and dilute it just a bit. Because it makes you feel a little less solitary. You aren't the only human who has experienced this. You aren't the only person who loved the woman you lost.
If you spent as many hours as I did in Creative Writing classes and Literature classes in high school and college, then maybe the writing of the words is as cathartic as the reading. For me it takes the twisted, gnarled web of emotion and memory and paints pictures in a way I could never do with paints and a brush. It helps me to bring accuracy to what I'm feeling and makes it all so much easier to process.
And then I make it public. I've been reading for almost 32 years. And if all of those years of reading has taught me anything at all, it's that no matter how insignificant a writer, words still have value. They will still touch someone. And if they help one other person too, then it's worth it.
Grieving is a process. A delicate dance of the life you had before swaying and gliding into the one you have after. There is no clear cut beginning and ending of the two. They simply begin to meld into a new formation. And all you can do is keep dancing, sometimes just standing in place, as you move through the music. And for me, the music has always been about the words.
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