Writing through

I don't know if you've noticed but I've been writing through. I've wrote about my surgeries, about work stress and finding my purpose, and about my dog's passing. It's what I do now. I often wonder, are people even reading my words? Or am I speaking into a void?

It's a form of therapy. It's a form of art, and it's a form of journaling. The best part of a blog is the immediacy of it all. I'm not working through it then writing it. I'm processing it as I write.

And I also appreciate memorializing it all. Maybe one day I can look back and go, wow I was really sad that day. Or really happy that day. I can see what my dreams were and see if they came to fruition.

Yesterday, I was dealing with work bullshit and at one point thought, wow, this sucks. And I wished I was a writer full-time. It's what moves me. It's what makes me smile and gets me excited.

I have a pretty full schedule of weekend reading events coming up and I know I'll get appreciation from my fellow writers and readers. Also, I know that I have to start on my next book. There's at least a few more in me. Maybe fiction. Maybe essays. Maybe poetry. 

So here's to writing through the pain. And writing one's joy. And waking up to do it again and again. Now that's bliss.