Elizabeth Gilbert, the Author of Eat, Pray, Love once said, “Not all books were meant to be published.” She went on to say that there were times when she knew that a book needed to be written, but it was only meant for her. You see, writing is therapeutic to me. Being able to pour my heart out onto paper is soul healing. I have always loved writing. Even as a painfully shy and sensitive little girl, I knew that there was something magical about it.
I have also always loved books. Especially children’s books. I can almost feel myself living inside the pages of a story. It’s where my mind would wander to feel safe from the pain and fear of the outside world. My imagination was and is still…wild. To this day, I can still remember my little 8-year-old mind and how I felt when something made my heart full of delight. Paintings and drawings of little rabbits making suitable homes in rabbit holes. Or a certain bear who loved his honey. And yes, even a melancholy little donkey who I’ve come to discover is quite possibly my spirit animal. I recall the warmth and nostalgia of those stories. I can remember the smell of old books. Even the crinkled plastic sounds from the protective covers at the library.
Once in the second grade, I wrote a rather outlandish story that was due for an assignment. I can even go so far as to remember my thought process. It was a rather far-fetched story about corn. Which only makes sense since I grew up in a small farm town in Iowa. Naturally, you write about corn, right? I’ll spare you all of the details of this story. But my teacher called it “creative”. Which was putting it nicely I believe. All of this to say…I remember that being the day when I decided I wanted to become a writer. And even though I’ve never followed through with it, it’s still a dream of mine.
Another favorite author of mine, Glennon Doyle, said that she would wake up every day and devote one hour to blog writing. She would show up for herself and write the blog and then publish it. She had much to say and needed to get it out. She wanted to feel like she wasn’t alone. And to make others feel the same way. I’ve taken a page from her book and have done just that. I’m learning to show up for myself every day. Treating this like it’s my job. Because it is! It’s my job to do this….just for me. And that’s the purpose of my writing. I fear being judged or losing friends or followers. It takes a bit of vulnerability for me to publish these words. I’m not proficient in blog writing, or correct grammar. I’m sure there are writers or teachers or English majors who would tear this apart. But, I’m doing this to heal my own soul. Isn’t that the purpose of creativity? The ability to express yourself and be vulnerable? I believe that it is. To put yourself out there and run the risk of being rejected.
So tell me, how are you showing up for yourself? What are you doing that’s just for you? The thing that’s begging you to be brought forth in this world. Also, what is healing your soul right now? I’d love to hear from you!