Why I write
I’ve enjoyed writing since I can remember. Like most young children I would make up little stories or poems. As I got a little older I often wrote in a diary or journal. I didn’t write consistently but always came back to it as an outlet for my creativity or self expression. I remember wanting to submit short stories to different magazines. Again, I drifted away from writing because “life” seemed to get in the way and consume too much of my time.
I married, had babies, divorced, worked as a single mom, moved (a few times) had different jobs, different boyfriends and different interests I would pursue. As time goes by, I find myself alone with my thoughts more often.
What my life looks like now:
My children are grown and I am a grandmother to five amazing souls. I am still a single working woman, somewhat by choice, somewhat not. You see, when I married, I was young (18) and my husband Joey wanted me to be a stay at home mom. There were aspects of it that I loved, but he was controlling and an alcoholic… that kinda shoots the romance of that life in the foot. Over time, he became abusive – mostly verbally and emotionally, but occasionally physically. When it became more than I could handle, I packed up my two girls and left him. I was still young and pretty and thought, “I can still have the life I want”.
I worked and struggled raising kids, and thankfully had a lot of help from my parents. As the saying goes: It takes a village to raise a child. That’s the truth! Joey wasn’t much help in that village. He became a bad alcoholic and never could get past us going separate ways. He got injured at work, fell off a scaffolding and cracked his head open. Doctors found four blood clots but only three were operable. His father (whom I believe was Satan himself) moved in with him to take care of him – he was an even worse alcoholic… and mean spirited. I tried to help a few times but the battle dealing with them was more than I could take.
Both daughters were pregnant at the same time and had their babies two weeks apart. Joey died three months later. My heart breaks for everyone. For Joey, because he was so lost and missed out on life in general. My daughters, because even though he missed out on so much in their lives, he was still their father and they loved him and he loved them as much as he was capable of. And myself, because he was my love once upon a time. I married him, we had babies together, we shared dreams and they didn’t work out.
I’ve often wondered and fantasized what would have happened if I would have just put my foot down and said “Look! This is how it’s going to be… You’re going to quit drinking and we are going to do this right. As a team, as a family” Hmmm, would he have listened? Would it have changed anything? Would he still be here and would we still be together living the life we wanted?
As I am now approaching 50, I have become very anxious with the realization that – I’m still not living the life I want. Why? How? And, I sometimes get depressed and have O.C.D. tendencies. I decided to seek therapy, just someone to talk to and sort things out. The therapist made a recommendation: “Write”.
Looking back on that conversation I realize it lit a fire under my ass and a spark in my spirit. I could tell stories, I could make myself the main character and live the life I really want to live through her!
These little stories that I keep to myself are so incredibly healing for me. I am now inspired to write more stories, perhaps stories that could help others live the life they dream of. My goal is to write books that awaken the soul yet allow one to dream. Stay tuned because I just might be brewing something that could affect you, at the very least hopefully entertain you.
I write because it heals me in a way nothing else can, it helps me escape this life to live the one I want.