I met someone new yesterday and they asked me what I did. To which I quickly responded, “I’m a writer.” As soon as I said it, I felt embarrassed. I’m a writer who hasn’t posted a new blog since October. I’m a writer who spends so much time on other people’s content, that I haven’t been writing anything of my own.
I may be a writer in the traditional sense, but my goal for 2015 is to get back to my favorite thing in the world, which is to share stories and posts with all of you. My blog is my own personal heaven. I love being a part of this giant world of bloggers. Even if just one person reads this, even if just one person is inspired or motivated, then I did my job and my heart is full.
So to you, my reader. Thank you for being here. And I promise to do a better job of writing for you, and writing more often.
I started this blog post when I was sitting at my son’s speech and occupational therapy sessions. One day a week, I sit in the waiting room for one hour while he completes his tasks. Sure, I could run errands or go back home. But I like to be there in case he needs me, and it also gives me one uninterrupted hour to do whatever I please.
There is no Wi-Fi, and due to my already over usage of data, I stay off the phone. I read books, I doodle on paper. But today, I did something really old school.
I had a client’s newsletter that I needed to edit, so I printed it out and brought it with me. I took a pen to the paper and began using the ever so familiar editing marks. The caret, the slash for the letter that shouldn’t be capitalized, the three lines under the one that should. I can’t tell you when the last time I did that was. I am always editing on a bright screen, barely taking in the message while ads, social media posts, emails, and sounds swirl all around me. It. Was. Awesome.
I wrote this post out long hand. It felt good. Not only was I much more focused on what I wanted to say, I could actually feel myself being brought into the post. Living it.
My hand was cramping, my nails were digging into my hand giving my palm that indented look that only people whose brains works faster than their hand can understand. I irritated that ever present little bump on the side of my middle finger from pressing it against my pen. I could smell the ink, got it on my hands. My heart was pounding as I wrote. No clicks of keys, just scribbly words that I am now sitting here deciphering.
Pen to paper, or pencil to paper, whatever you prefer will NEVER be replaced. I don’t want to say words and have them magically translated into text. I don’t want to use one of those fancy digital pens and write on a tablet. I don’t even want to be typing this, but I guess that’s the only way to share with you right now.
I should have just taken a photo of my handwritten blog with all its cross-outs and numbers and arrows and posted that for you. Because then you would really see me and how my brain works when I write. You would understand my chaos, you would see my transitions, and how my mind bounces all over the place.
Writing is a beautiful and perfect thing. It’s the love of my life (of course Justin and Vincenzo, you are, too).
My 2015 resolutions are simple.
1. Be thankful
3. Give to others
4. Write often
As if by magic, last night I got a notification that someone had commented on one of my blog posts from 2013. It was a blog I had written about my son being my best friend, one I hadn’t even really remembered I had written. But a mom sent me the most beautiful comment. Part of it is here:
“Then i came across your article and started bawling and laughing because that’s us. More than anything it finally showed me I’m not just a authoritative figure, a teacher, a chef, a maid, a chauffeur… I am their world. I am so blessed God gave me my best friend i had been praying for…”
This is why I write. This is why I will never stop. Thank you for reading. Thank you for letting me write.