There was a day when the thought of going more than a day or two without pulling on my running shoes and hitting the streets filled me with anxiety. There was a day when I believed I wasn’t cool enough, creative enough, or insightful enough to to write a blog. There was a day when I was certain that I could never survive this life without my mom. There was a day when “brave” would be the last word I would ever use to describe myself.
Those days are no more. I’ve changed. This year has changed me. This blog. . . this blog has been my therapy.
My MIL has asked me on more than one occasion, “Why do you blog?” She once commented how interesting it is that in “real” life I tend to be intensely private, keeping many of my thoughts inside and yet I come to this space and let it all hang out, so to speak.
It’s a valid question and a question that I have pondered for some time.
Oh, I’ve tossed around several answers. I’ve listened to the various formulation of words I’ve spit out hoping that any of them might satisfy the question. None of them have.
Some probably think I’m insane to put such personal and intimate details of my life out there for the world (or 19 followers and some lurkers) to see. Who knows? Maybe I am. It probably seems self-indulgent to others. It probably is. It’s more than that, though. Writing has changed me. Writing has allowed me to hear what it is that I’m thinking. It has allowed me to take a journey through my own mind and witness the crazy, happy, silly, and sad thoughts that swirl so fast that, without stopping to write, I would never hear.
When my mom died I knew I had to do something. The swirling and whirling of emotions were endless. So, I started to write.
Oh man, I couldn’t have been more surprised at the return on investment. I can imagine that it’s similar to sitting in a group therapy session. I envision nodding heads, utterances of “Oh, I understand” and “Me too’s! and “You go girls!” are what energizes a group. Writing in this space amongst this little community. . energizes me. It empowers me. It has changed me. . . in so many ways.
A few months ago I defined myself almost solely as a runner. Not anymore. A few months ago I thought I couldn’t write. I can. A few months ago I thought I wouldn’t survive tragedy. I’m surviving. A few months ago I knew I was one of the most cowardly people alive. I’m certain that is not true.
This writing thing has changed me. It has allowed me to see that my thoughts matter. What I am saying about myself, about the world, and about any given situation matters. It matters big. I may not have the power to change a situation, but I certainly have the power to change what I’m thinking about a situation, or how I am dealing with a situation. That completely rocks my world. And when I think about it, I realize that what rocks my world, will most certainly rock their world. . .
Oh yeah, this writing thing has changed me. And I want to say thank you, once again, to the readers, commenters, and supports who have been a part of my very own therapy group. It’s been a fun ride. . .