From the time I could hold a pencil in my tiny hand, I was writing poetry for my dad (he'd give the topic and I would write accordingly) and short stories for anyone who would read them. When I would make books, they were bound with cardboard, covered in wrapping or wallpaper, and tied with ribbon to hold them all together. As I got into my teens and became a young adult, I kept dozens of journals, many of which I still have today.
In school, I was the student whose heart sank when essays were limited to "only" two pages. I began work on all writing assignments the day they were given, while perpetually avoiding any assignments that didn't allow me this creative outlet. Even knowing this about myself, for so many years, I have ignored that writing is my calling. Some ventures warranted ignoring the calling, like quitting my job to travel abroad for six months when I was 22. But even then, I had a loyal following of family and friends who eagerly awaited my 2-3 elaborate emails a week because of my ability to tell a good story. So, I have never really ditched writing altogether, just pushed it aside a bit for other things that seemed more important at the time.
When my sons were two and four years old, I went back to school to earn an Associate's in Journalism. It took me four years to complete between unexpected illness and being primary caregiver, but I did it, and I loved every minute of it. I graduated two years ago, but life has shifted focus away from writing many times since then.
I didn’t know what it would take for me to finally take that mental leap and just say, “I am meant to be a writer and I need to pursue it.” I had my guesses, but never would I have thought that it would be the death of a loved one that would make me finally acknowledge that writing is what I want to be doing and what I must pursue. My dear brother passed away in October 2015, and after the initial shock wore off, I found myself totally broken open, driven, and inspired unlike I have ever been before in my life.
When you look at the bigger picture, this inspiration is surely not unlike what many experience after the death of a loved one. Life is short, right? We never know when it will all be over and we certainly want to live life to the fullest, experiencing as much joy and love as we possibly can. I no longer believe I should ignore something I have been so strongly driven to do for my entire life. I truly believe I am meant to be writing in a greater capacity than in a journal app on my iPad. There must be a reason why this has been the one, constant desire in my life among so many fleeting ideas. What purpose is my writing supposed to serve? I really have no idea. But I can’t wait to find out!
