A stronger writer

Writing has become a part of me, having a journal in my bag is something that is just common knowledge about me. The first time I wrote, and I mean really sat down with my blue and white summer themed stationery my grandmother gave me in order to send her letters, I remember feeling pressure of having the right words. I was so worried that I would spell something wrong, or not have the proper grammar because I mean this was my grandmother we were talking about, the queen of etiquette!

Slowly, but surely, my concentration on the perfect letter turned into my mind running wild with all the thoughts I had suppressed. At the time, I had just lost a friend to cancer. In all honesty, I cannot for the life of me remember what it was all about. I only remember the feeling that finally left as I put all my words on my paper.

It was the escape I didn’t even know existed. I sat in my butterfly chair while the laughter and tears came to me. Anger for only being 10 and not knowing how to help adults in my life. Loneliness because we had spent years with her and her mother while she was battling cancer and one day she was gone. The odd feeling that comes from knowing that the person you care about is no longer in pain and in return causes others pain. These are feelings that even as adults we are not able to wrap our heads around.

Writing it all down was something I was so grateful for that I started writing everything down. This soon resulted in long stories I never finished and fairytales about little pixies being up to no good. I even write poems from time to time when I have a thought that just needs to get out. I never considered myself a writer though.

Almost 20 years later, I am finally taking a huge jump for myself and starting to share my writing. My first poem was one that I had written years ago. I was still scared to really open up and share that part of myself. I am a person that always has something to say, but writing is something different; it is my escape where I truly open not holding back. It was truly terrifying trying to put something out on this platform.

The second poem was one that came from being in the moment. As I wrote it knowing that I needed these feelings out; I felt as though I was back in that pink butterfly chair just trying to make sense of the world that I am now in. I also knew that I was not the only one with these thoughts.

You see, I had lost another friend to cancer. This friend was someone who I had known for half of my life and every chance he got he pushed me to do whatever made me happy. When I published the first story, this was the person I was happy to share it with. Waking up to not having that constant support that almost felt like nagging some days, was a very hard reality that I wasn’t sure how to face. I had support from my amazing partner. The thing is when you know someone for so long you can push them differently. That support was gone, and I knew it was time to make real changes.

Posting that poem was my way of telling myself I was going to be okay. It felt amazing and terrifying at the same time. I have become a writer who is confident in their writing and a person who hopes to help others. I hope to help them get away from their world a little or even be a person they can relate to.