I never knew there was a writer inside of me waiting to burst forth until a re-occurrence of my cancer . Most people begin their writing career with a notebook and a pen , jotting down random thoughts of significance throughout the day . Not me , I began with a blog .
What started out as a diary , quickly turned into a therapeutic exercise of placing pen to paper all the pent up emotions of life with cancer . What I couldn't express to others verbally , came pouring out like the explosion of floodgates long guarded .
The written word became a healing process without my being aware of it . When or how , I'm not exactly sure , but it has helped me shed the layers of pity and anger that so easily could have enveloped me .
The written word holds much power scrolled with the mighty pen of real emotion . Why did it take almost half my life to realize a passion long hidden inside of me ? Could it be I needed to gain experience to voice my pain , my joy and my desires ?
Maybe , but I believe the real reason happens to be time . There is more of it now than in my younger years . During those years , my passion for writing lay hidden and dormant while life was spent changing smelly diapers , washing dirty little faces and countless hours of evening homework .
Nowadays , I can only dream of running away to a cabin in the woods by a lake where I can sit on the front porch , sipping wine and allowing nature to become my muse as I pen the written word . Perhaps a novel ? Just like in the movies , eh ?
As I sit here , a woman fast approaching fifty , I count myself fortunate to have found a passion to indulge in during my latter years . A passion and a joy that truly defines who I have become . All due to the power of the written word .
Have a Blessed day everyone .
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