Whew! That was exhausting! Too much time spent struggling, with not only the forces outside of me, but also those within. I continue to hope that there will be a day when this type of struggle is a dim memory, and that I will have a life of peace and contentment. Such an amusing thought, that is!
I knew this blog would be a struggle for me, because Writing has chased me my entire life. I know that other writers have pursued it vigorously…and I wish that I could proudly speak of the passion and intense feeling I have for the art. I do, in a way, in that I adore the language, the play of the words, and the juxtapositions of meaning. Much of my writing has been poetry, creating pictures and impressions with words, and prose has been more problematic. My prose manifested itself as humor, and I was able to hide behind a façade of hyperbole and exaggeration. Personal essay is just that…much too personal…and my shyness always prevailed.
After showing much promise in school, I tucked Writing carefully away and headed into the family business of Accounting. Not the refuge of the creative and sensitive, it became a world that was incredibly difficult for me. Did I write for solace in the face of all that left-brained thinking? No, I did not. I found other creative outlets, was an excellent business communicator, but did not write. Through so many life events–marriages, births of my children, divorce–I did not write. Through every spiritual crisis I faced, I knew I needed to write. I did not write. It became my heart’s longing to write, but every time I tried, I did not write.
Finally, with the birth of the Internet, I found a place that was anonymous enough for me to step out to write. After a particularly difficult divorce, I found cyberspace; and with that came writing groups, support groups, and eventually a place as Assistant Editor for a parenting humor website. My poems were increasing in number, the creativity was flowing, and my articles appeared across the internet. Finally, I was able to write!
Life, however, intervened again. At the height of all of this writing, I suffered a series of strokes. Although I had no physical deficits, I was left with some cognitive ones that included an impact not only on my accounting ability, but also my ability to write in the way that I once did. My poetry was particularly affected; and I haven’t been able to recapture that magic in the same way. Franklin Roosevelt and I both know what I’m up against, and Fear is a powerful deterrent to creative energy. Fortunately, I have my faith, the love of a Dear Man in my life, wonderful children, and this blog. I believe those are all the tools necessary to find my voice again.