Throwback Thursday

 

                                   Everyday is a brand new day, 

                                     everyday is a journey. 

 

Every Thursday, I take a post from the past  and sort of do an update. What has happened since that time. Right now, we are in the year 2013. By this time, I was going through another bout with cancer, my third. Each journey brought it's own separate learning process. My journey with cancer has certainly been bittersweet. Besides the fact that cancer has eaten away at my body, many good things have come out of this experience. 

 My crocheting ministry has been a blessing not only to it's members or the organizations we donate to, but also to me. I never knew this existed inside of me. 

My love of writing. If I could express how much the written word means to me. There is so much I would love to do. Will I have the time to accomplish it all?

As I re-read the post below, I've realized that my feelings have not changed. I still love writing. I still want to indulge in numerous literary projects. I still want to go hide in the woods, living somewhere in a Tiny House. I hope you enjoy the post on this Throwback Thursday.

The Written Word

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.