Beatitudes of my life

Being grateful for everything in my life…. no matter what…

Why I write… January 31, 2012

Filed under: Blessings,Life Balance,Parenting — beatitudesofmylife @ 4:29 pm
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Wow… this question has been posed to me by several people recently, so it’s been running around on the hamster wheel in my head for a few weeks now.  I’m slowly recognizing that if an idea is imposing its presence into my subconscious, it’s asking to be let out and run free, so here’s the best I can do in way of explanation at the moment.

I write so I don’t go crazy.  I write so that all those crazy ideas in my head have a place to go instead of whirling around and causing me to forget the really important things, like remembering to pick up Arnold’s bread thins for M’s lunch.  I write to share my opinions and my thoughts with anyone who is interested in taking a break from their own life for a moment.  But mostly, I write so that I can give credence to all the blessings of my life.

I was having trouble sleeping because I was thinking so much.  Anyone else have this happen?  As my kids have gotten older (and in the process, I’ve somehow gotten older too), it’s gotten harder and harder for me to fall asleep at night.  I’ve always been someone who thinks about stuff before I nodded off, but this was getting out of hand.  I’d hear a cough and within minutes I was trying to figure out how I was going to adjust my upcoming morning in case I needed to include a doctor’s appointment.  I’d hear a funky sound as the A/C or heating unit kicked in and suddenly I was trying to justify taking out a loan to purchase a brand new unit.  I couldn’t stop myself from going straight to the worst-case scenarios of anything that popped into my little pea-sized brain.  It was driving me crazy and I knew it.  I got some help from my doctor (yes, a sleeping rx) when the stress just got to be ridiculous but lately my thoughts have been swirling around more ideological pursuits.  Blogging seemed like a logical place to work them out… mull them over and then kick them out to the world… get them out of my head.  So far, it really seems to work for me.  The “hamster wheel” of thoughts isn’t keeping me awake as much as it used to…

I wanted to mull over things that were happening in my life and put them somewhere so I could “let them go”.  Writing, for me, has a cathartic benefit when I send it out into the world.  I may not have many people who are reading what I write, but those who do have given me something truly wonderful…. their feedback.  Hearing that I’m not alone or that others have experienced similar situations allows me to participate in the larger world in a way that simply speaking with individuals can offer.  I believe we all want to know that we’re not the only “freaks on the planet” so to speak…. there is someone else out there who understands and can commiserate or validate our ideas.  Humans are social animals… and I love being social…

As for giving credence to the blessings of my life?  How could I not appreciate all that God has given me in this world?  I have a husband who is my better self…and I try to always be the best partner for him in every way.  He makes me feel cherished and loved, no matter what is going on in our lives.  I have two sons of whom I couldn’t possibly be more proud… they are smart, interesting, fun, and I would rather spend time with them than anyone else in the world (other than their dad).  I could go on and on, but I’ll save that for a “mushier” post.  Suffice it to say that I love my family with abandon and am so grateful that God felt me worthy…

… and that’s why I write…

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One Response to “Why I write…”

  1. Adam Nettina Says:

    You write for the same reasons I write. But there are some days — more and more as I get older — where I don’t want to write. Some days where I realize the only reason I write is to get the voice inside my head outside of my head, and because I wonder what it’d like to speak that voice to a human being and not write just write it down in front of an empty audience . Some days when I don’t want to write because that’s all everyone has ever said I should do and will do, and because the more I do it I can feel the creeping sensation that it’s really all that I am. Other days when I’m resentful of writing because I can’t give it up, and the investment of the ‘greatest years of my life’ in, what my favorite poet once said was an “inarticulate raid,” have been just that — a raid. Not a beachhead. Not an invasion. Not a triumphant foothold on a continent in conquest or liberation, but rather a short-lived high of tactical victory, or, at the very best, a few moments of thinking what I wrote mattered.

    We write for the same reasons, and there is nothing wrong with writing. But some days writing is not enough — not for ourselves, nor others. Some days, there is no substitute for singing.


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