The Write Stuff...

I discovered my love for writing at an early age, attributed to several encouraging teachers and fueled by a love of reading.  I idolized Erma Bombeck.  It has been my release, the blogs have been cheap great therapy and an electronic life journal of the past five years.  Not to mention all the friends I've made because of them.  Hello?  Bonus!

I'm not great at it, I just love doing it.

The day I wrote DH's eulogy was the last time I remember pouring myself into words.  It was a foggy endeavor at best.  I had posted it on Full Circle but I'm not linking back to it.  I haven't read it in a long while but I do recall thinking I could've done a better job.  Quite honestly, I don't care to revisit any of that.

It has taken a year and a half to get my writing groove back.  I'm beginning to see things again and think, "Hey, that's a post!" and definitely more mindful of the moments (especially those sweet and funny ones).  No longer a chore, the words are starting to flow and I'm getting that warm fuzzy again.

It feels damn good.

I'll never be the same girl I was before the summer of 2011 but that's not necessarily a bad thing.  We grow and change as we're molded by our experiences.  Character building, heart crushing, joyful, sorrowful, frustrating moments.  I've got a lot going on in this little package but there's more good than bad and that's all I can ask for.  I remember wondering back in the darkness of that horrible time if I would ever feel like me again.  It's a paralyzing thought and a hell of a process but you do, eventually, find your way back home.

Dorothy is right, there's no place like it.