Pipe Dreams

What am I passionate about? This was a question I asked myself since I was a child. Now that I have entered my 30’s, I seem to ask myself this question more often than not.

Recently I have come to the realization that I have always known my passion. Helping others. Even at a young age I remember helping others via information. Whether it was passing on study tips in school or just passing along information I learned through reading or experience to someone in need. In my late teens/early twenties, it evolved into speaking to younger children in my life about what to expect in the world when they are older. I remember preaching to young girls in my or my friends family to finish school first, be focused and the boys will come later. Why did I do this? It came from my heart. As a child I was naturally gifted and talented. I had no one nurture or support that talent. I was a straight A student, a very good singer, an avid reader, and writer. At age 11 I was writing short stories and poetry. Reading was an escape from reality for me. My dream was to be a writer of music, novels, screenplays, and own a publishing company. I wanted to help others deal with emotional, physical, mental pain through my writing. I wanted to give people something to relate to.

By age 21 that dream had disappeared. Life had pulled me in so many directions, and I had experienced such pain and loss that I was only concerned with my day to day survival. I had experienced death of close loved ones, homelessness, and heartbreak. I also was dealing with the failing health of my mother and her newfound love of alcohol. Life was painful. I delivered a baby boy on my 22nd birthday. When I became a mom, I thought that everything that I was before was gone. The only trace of the old me were the scars left behind. I had to get on the right path to give my child a bright future. I wanted to protect his spirit and innocence. I wanted to nurture and raise an amazing person who would make the world a better place.

I thought my calling was social work and the youth were my calling. In my mind If I could reach and help a child, I would be helping to create a better future. I realized my passion was still the same, helping others. So at 22 I was still trying to figure out where my life was going when I decided nursing was my calling. With nursing I could help others and give myself and child a secure life. I buried my mother at age 25 and slipped into depression.

Fast forward to age 33 and here I am months away from starting nursing school and simultaneously working on my first novel as well as a book of poetry. I recently realized that writing is what I am most passionate about! Writing is how I can help others. Writing helps me deal with my insecurities, my sadness, my pain and joy. Writing is healing for me. I rediscovered my love of writing recently after meeting a long distance pen pal. My correspondence back and forth with a stranger opened up doors for healing for the both of us and I rediscovered parts of myself that I thought were long gone.

The whole experience lit a fire that had burned out long ago. I am now writing poetry, and working on my own novel. The goal with the novel and poetry is to give people something to relate to. I want to help give people hope. Those who read my writing are interested in what I have to say because they can relate to my writing. My writing gives healing as well. I hope my writing can change the world one world at a time.