I haven’t written in a while.
I wish I could say it is because I’ve been busy. I have been very busy between work and everything in my personal life, but I have thought about blogging almost every day for the past several weeks when I get home from work. I arrive home every day and I choose not to write.
It sounds dumb. It sounds like I don’t want to write, but that’s not true at all. There has been a story on my heart for the past month. Writers out there know what I’m talking about. It’s a drive to tell a story and describe a realization, experience or new idea conveyed in a new way. It sits there like a stone, weighing you down until you click publish.
I’ve been contemplating this story for a while now, I just needed the right time, the right outlet and the right state of mind in order to create the picture with words. Deeply personal, the story must be told and not kept inside any longer.
Anyone remember “word vomit” from Mean Girls? It feels like that, creeping up from the deepest parts of your gut, through your esophagus and out of your mouth. It’s almost uncontrollable.
I’m hoping people can read this story, experience it with me and catch a glimpse of a struggle that few realize or see. Writing is an outlet for me. I enjoy showing my perception of people through my writing. As a reporter, I hardly ever write columns or editorials. It’s not that it’s not my style, I just don’t find myself entertaining enough to share a personal story.
I also find it difficult to share deeply personal aspects of my interior thoughts and feelings. Introverted at the core, I can become extrovert if the need calls, but it is in moments of silence and solitude I find my strength. I am able to gather my thoughts and decide the best manner to project.
In my next few posts, which shouldn’t be separated by months on end, I hope you will follow me on a journey very few have traveled with me. I hope that you, my readers, if nothing else will gain insight into a world many experience though rarely share.
Until next time…