Why I Write

Started NaNoWriMo today and wrote 4,049 words.

Because he would have been 31 today. Because two years ago I moved out of a house that felt like a cage and was a shell of myself. Because November and December are a season of remembering all the firsts and lasts. Because if my story can help just one person, than it will be worth every painful moment of writing this book.

I have always known this book wouldn’t be anything close to easy to write (which is why I keep putting it off). It’s not. It breaks my heart all over again every time I try, but in a way that is truly healing. I’m sitting here both laughing and crying over the absurdity of my life in those early months and years after my loss. I had no idea that it was just the start of a chapter of living that would strip me bare. No idea whatsoever. But being on the other side, I can send so much love and gratitude to the little broken me who did her very best, yet failed miserably in ways I will always struggle to describe.

Saying “I’m stronger for it” is speaking the truth, because I have a whole heap of gratitude for everything I’ve walked through. But I can’t truly feel that gratitude without feeling my heart break all over again… and I don’t think we acknowledge that piece of the equation enough. We focus on the positive side, because that’s more light and happy and comfortable.

But having gratitude for everything we’ve been through… truly feeling like we wouldn’t change a thing because it’s made us who we are… that is devastatingly difficult to wrap your heart around sometimes. It’s indescribable unless you’ve experienced, or continue to experience it, for yourself.

And that’s why I write. 💕