As a young woman, my writing experience waxed and waned as life took me on various journeys. Years went by when there was nothing that inspired me to express myself with the written word aside from journaling and writing prayers. Sometimes I tried to do more but the result was not what I knew I was capable of, and certainly not anything that I felt inspired to continue with.
I started writing again at this stage in my life first for my children as I thought about my own mother who died at age fifty-five. I have realized how little I know about her as a woman and it grieves me. I want my own children to know me as more than just their mother. Although that was the catalyst, writing has become so much more to me now.
By nature I am a quiet person, I treasure solitude, and I have a rich inner thought life. Writing is a way for me to step outside of myself and to clear my mind. It helps me to put some structure around my sometimes scattered thoughts. It is a way to let others in to a private part of me where I am honest and open in a way that I find hard to do sometimes in real life. It grounds me and helps me to understand the woman whom I have become. In writing about the past I find comfort as memories drift in and out and I find appreciation for past experiences. I become stronger when I write. The act of putting thoughts into words inspires and encourages me in a way that nothing else does.
I write now, at almost fifty years of age, because it is part of who I am and I am finally ready to recognize, accept and embrace this woman I have become.