I’m a Writer… and I know it

It shouldn’t surprise me. This is how it always begins…


Tonight, after a long day squeezed into four hours, we watched a documentary about one of my biggest muses, Prince Rogers Nelson.


After a couple of hours down the YouTube rabbit hole, and being reminded why he has always been such an inspiration to me at the soul level, I was reading some of my old writing as I searched for the piece I wrote when he died. In 2016, I had just finished listening to The Stand on audiobook, and my writing gene had been properly honed by Stephen King. My tribute to Prince is one of my all time favs.


I never did find that piece on the device I happened to be looking at. What I did find was all of the writing from the time I ditched my good girl life in 2017, and did what I truly wanted to, the way I wanted to, for the first time in my life. It was awe inspiring.


I am surely a writer.


What is different today from previous adventures in prose is that I am fully ready to own it. Like for real.


I don’t necessarily mean I am devoting my life to the words on a page, but I am ready to stop being afraid of it. Just as I was finally ready in 2017 to claim my life as my own, this year I am ready to claim myself for exactly who I am. No apologies. Writer. Artist. Philosopher. Activist. (Dare I say Provocateur?)


It has been a journey, for sure. Just like every new stage of growth, there have been similarities to learning to walk. First we crawl, then we pull ourselves up, then we stand, then we fall, and so on. Too often, we don’t just begin something new because we are afraid to make mistakes. We think in terms of all or nothing. “It won’t be perfect on the first try, so I’m not even going to bother getting started.” Ugh.


The last two years of my life have been all about allowing myself the permission to own what I really think about anything and everything. For so many years I found it too easy to parrot the views of my parents, husbands, or employers. For much of my life my views were not compatible with my surroundings and it felt safer, and simpler, to just “go along to get along.”


Last year really flipped that on its head for me. For the first time I saw millions of humans do exactly that, and the world I live in began to feel more unsafe for me every single day. This really made me stop and look at who I am and what I believe about anything and everything. At the same time, I began to realize that what I thought was nothing more than altered consciousness “awakening symptoms” was actually me having progressively worse seizures. A chronic illness was certainly not part of my plan for the rest of my life. Not to mention the fact that each seizure did indeed alter my perception of the world around me and how I walk in this world.


So here I am. Fully embracing all the changes, all of the pieces, all of the threads in my fabric. I am not afraid anymore to see, say, act, do all the things the way I see fit. Art is flowing out of me in record proportion and now the writing is, too, yet again.


As I sit here in my recliner, gazing across the RV at my latest and possibly favorite piece to date, I am relaxed and whole. I am fully comfortable with my paradoxes and contrary ideas. I am totally ok with changing my mind on some ideas with new information, while holding boundaries set in stone for others.


I know who I am.

I know what I believe.

I know what ideas I would die for.

And I’m good. 😊


Photo by Lisa from Pexels

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