I am participating in the Writing contest: You are Enough, hosted by Positive Writers. This is my entry.
Most
love stories involve a bit of drama at the right moments, a whole lot of
emotion, and, of course, a happy ending. My story of becoming a writer is
exactly that, an exciting and unique romance. There were definite moments of
drama and I discovered feelings that were new to me. Yet, through all the
trials, I came to fall madly in love with writing. It wasn't always like that. The beginning
of my relationship with writing was a bit rocky. I truthfully was not fond of writing. I
guess you could say that it wasn't fond of me either. However, it is
interesting to experience how irony unfolds in unexpected places of your life.
I’ve
learned a weaknesses can become your strength. Or in other words, that very thing with which you struggle can eventually become one of your greatest attributes. Maybe it’s because you struggle so much with it that you are constantly working on it. Or I wonder if that
weakness is the very thing missing in your life. Then somehow, you find it, strengthen
it, and eventually use it to fill the void.
I
grew up a quiet girl whom was rarely noticed. Some may say I blended
into the background. Honestly, I was quite comfortable
there. Probably because I struggled with words. I never
knew what to say and writing was a frustrating, chaotic feat. Looking back I
realize that deep down inside I didn’t feel like my words mattered.
This
was a norm for me, at least until I hit the age of 40. I often heard that life in
your 40’s is different: you finally start to figure a few things out about
your life. This appeared to prove true in my own life. My situation in life seemed
to have gone a completely different direction then I expected and I was working
on making sense of it. I
found myself in a bookstore one day. With a handful of books ready to buy, I mazzed
my way through different sections of the store headed for the register. Out of
the corner of my eye I saw a plain book humbly sitting between many other books
with flashy covers. The word “journal” printed in small letters jumped out at
me in the subtitle of the book. For some reason I stopped and picked it up.
This was curious to me as I was not much of a journal writer. In fact, my
relationship with writing still needed some intervention. I thought, however,
that possibly this simple looking book could provide answers to some of my life boggling questions. Maybe, just maybe,
I was having a serendipitous moment, or perhaps it was a change of heart. I
like to think of it as divine intervention for at that moment I knew I needed
to read the surprisingly interesting book because for me, it would be life
changing.
A characteristic of any improving relationship, I started to see things
through different eyes. I realized that I could write down all the words that
came to my mind on paper, and that no one would judge me for them. It was
a private conversation between my heart and my mind. I could stumble, go
blank, and write gibberish and that was ok because that was what was in my mind.
That was how I felt. I noticed the more I wrote the more I loved it and the
more I loved it the better things got. I was finding my voice and in turn was
gaining my confidence. I was experiencing something that was new to me and it
felt exhilarating!
I
have now fallen deeply in love with writing. I realized that the more I nurture
the ability to express my thoughts and feelings, the stronger my relationship with
writing becomes. It knows me better than anyone else. It doesn’t judge me, only
accepts me as me, just as I am.
My safe haven |
Once
a weakness, writing- the very thing that terrified me growing up- has ironically
become my saving grace. It strengthens me. It loves
me. It lifts me up. It is a precious gift I was given that I want to
share.
Now I
love to share my words. I love to share my ideas and thoughts because for
the first time in my life, I feel like my words matter. Furthermore, I feel we
all have hidden talents. We tend to compare ourselves to others and thereby deem
ourselves unworthy or incapable. I feel I went too long hiding my voice.
However, I have learned that our talents and gifts are given to us for a
reason: we are expected to find them, work on them, and share them. You never
know whom your words will touch for the better.
Life
is too hard to do it on your own. Sharing experiences and stories, both happy and sad,
help others to feel they are not alone. I once felt alone, but writing has
shown me that I have a place in this world. I matter. I am enough. I am loved.