From My Heart to Yours
If I close my eyes, I can almost remember the feeling the first time I put pen to paper as a writer. It was at about the age of 14 and I was locked in my bedroom crying, lovesick over a boy. The boy, of course, turned out to not be all that important; but the experience found me lying on the floor in my room for the first time writing poetry, which turned out to be significant.
As words poured onto the page, it was as though each one was a piece of my heart and laying them out allowed me the chance to see how to put them back together. It was bad and it was beautiful, painful and cathartic. I remember holding the pen like my only lifeline between dreams and reality, ink as the only conduit to join the two and allow my hopes to take shape.
Then it all goes black. Or perhaps blank is more appropriate. I grew up and out, left behind my lovesick room and heart-drenched paper for adulting. I went to school, got a job, got married, had a child; and I did most of it on autopilot, just coasting through life forgetting all about that girl in her bedroom years before who found such comfort in letting words spill onto the page.
It wasn’t until three years ago when the light started to get back in that something shifted in me and I suddenly felt the desire to write again. I am convinced it was a force far stronger than me who had plans I wasn’t aware of, but I listened. I sat down that first day in November of 2015 and wrote from my heart. I wrote what eventually, 1.5 years later, would become my first blog post on this site.
What transpired after that first page of writing was a spiritual experience and nothing short of life-changing for me. When my father passed away in early 2016, I once again became that heartbroken 14-year-old who needed a way to put the pieces back together. My chronicle of that experience became my essay, Seeds of Love, which was ironically published on his birthday in 2017.
My reconnection with writing unlocked many feelings and experiences I had stuffed away for years. It was as though I was meeting myself for the first time and it was beyond thrilling and energizing. I feel that writing is what I was born to do, a fact I’m beyond grateful to learn since I recognize that many people never get the chance to discover their calling.
What that means, however, is it’s something I want so much that I became paralyzed. Somewhere along the way, I lost myself in it all. Instead of writing from my heart, I started trying to write from my head. Each time I sat down, I could barely get a few sentences out without thinking “this is garbage, no one is going to like this.” It became more about what everyone would think and whether they would want to read it than simply about being me when, in reality, it’s when I wrote from that place in my heart that people connected the most.
There’s so much for me in this realization, not the least of which is the fact that we so easily complicate things for ourselves. We get wrapped up in worry and fear, forget where we came from, and lose sight of where we are going when it really could be as simple as staying on a straight path ahead.
The time I spent away from this space had it’s reasons. Sometimes in life we have to take unexpected detours in order to get where we are going. With that said, I am hopeful that, starting with this post, I will once again find myself back on the path I was on - straight from my heart to yours.