It’s my way.

Writing for me is an outlet.

It’s my way of managing and dealing with life.

You know, some people run in the same way that I write.

Man how I wish running was my way.

Sometimes my mind is all jumbled and the only way that I can organize it is to write it down on something where the words don’t move.

When your write- the sentence doesn’t change and it doesn’t move. There is a stillness. And I choose what gets to stay there.

If you’re not a writer, you won’t get it. Just like how running 13 miles seems like pure torture to me but to a runner… it’s their way.

I like to find deeper meanings in things and draw spiritual connections to them. I love to look at nature and question its purpose and find ways that I can relate to..

I started writing when I was young. It’s always been my way. I don’t do it for the reader. Which is so ironic because when we teach writing in second grade we teach them to write for their audience.

But I don’t write for you. I write for me.

I write for my calm in the storm.

I write for my mental clarity.

I write to find my purpose.

I write to understand a situation.

I write to deepen my spiritual relationship with my Heavenly Father.

I write to heal. Forgive. And grow.

I have found such a passion and love for language.

I asked my three year old if she knew what it meant to litter (a verb) (meaning to throw trash on the ground )and she said yes its what we use for the cat (a noun). I hadn’t even thought of what that word had meant to her. Words literally mean different things. A word can also mean something different just based on the tone of voice that you use.

Let’s don’t confuse writing with talking though. I’m as southern as they come and will talk your ear off (if I know you) otherwise, I would rather write.

Writing has become a part of me.

It’s my way.

I was asked recently what I did to take time for myself. And y’all. I was stumped. I always have my girls. I really don’t ever have time to myself. A good friend of mine said “you have your blog”.

I didn’t realize how much writing has gotten me through life. How much importance it has had. How stable our relationship has been. I didn’t realize the long term commitment that we had with each other. I didn’t realize writing was my way. It was just always something that I did.

I can look back on the toughest and most joyous times of my life and see that the most consistent part of my journey was writing.

You need “a way”.

Maybe it’s writing. But maybe it’s not. & that’s ok. My husband has a few ways. & with the job that he works I think he needs them all.

But we all need a way. An outlet. A breath of fresh air- or a sigh or relief. A feel better. A pick me up.

Maybe when some people run those (God awful) 13 miles they have this same feeling in their tummy that I get in mine when I write. This turning, and burning passion that now I’m ready. Put me back in the world. Stand me back on my feet.

My thoughts are still and I said what I needed to say.

One of the hardest things about starting a blog (3 years ago now) is that I had to realize that this is my way. It always has been (it just used to be on paper). & in the process I do hope that maybe someone can get something out of it. Maybe your way is to read. But ultimately. This is all for me. This is my way.

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