Why I'm Back To Writing

I miss writing.

There was a time when I wrote religiously. My blog began as a chronicle of my daughter's firsts:
Her first recital, her first day of school, her first time on a bike without training wheels. As she grew older, the blog transitioned from a scrapbook of her every move to a personal journal sharing the pain of my Mom's final days or detailing the excruciating trials of divorce. As I struggled, so did my blog, and I eventually lost interest in writing.

Growing up, writing was the one activity I was certain I could master. Words came easily. Sentences flowed beautifully, filling page after page of my notebooks. I wrote short stories as an outlet to express teenage angst. I composed poems. I competed on the Speech and Debate team simply so I could draft original oratories. Eventually, the strong urge to write led me down the career path I am on now.

A few weeks ago I had lunch with my friend Red and lamented about the impending death of my poor blog. I wanted to revive it, but we couldn't diagnose a problem let alone prescribe a solution. All I knew is I desperately wanted to write. I needed to write. But I didn't know how to. But yet again, I walked away, leaving the blog on life support.

Then a miracle happened.

My friend - let's call her Rockstar - invited me to accompany her to an event. An author named Glennon Doyle Melton was speaking, and Rockstar thought I would enjoy her message.

So I went.

And Glennon changed my life.

Ok, maybe she didn't change my life. But she understands my life. And she made me realize why I neglected my blog.

My blog was always a reflection of my then-situations. Mom. Divorcée. Newly single woman on the prowl, trying to reclaim the last 20 years.

Nowadays, I'm living this secret life. I didn't mean for it to be. I didn't even realize it was secret until I heard Glennon speak.

Today, I am a bipolar, recovering alcoholic.

I never dreamed this would be a part of my identity. Some days, it pained me to look in the mirror. If I struggled with my newfound reality, then I assumed others would too. I strived to become the anonymous of alcoholics. I hid my illness in the shadows. And that's when my writing stopped.

But starting now, that's going to change.

There is something quite cathartic about writing. It is a part of who I am. It allows me to be creative. It serves as my emotional outlet. It motivates me. And my new hope is it will help keep me sober.

Proudly, I have eight months of sobriety under my belt. I didn't choose to have bipolar disorder. I didn't choose to battle addiction. But today, I choose not to hide. I choose to write again.

To read more about my journey in recovery, click here.


  1. I so wish I could have gone with you to see Glennon! I follow all her stuff! Was she in Cleveland? And, yes, I miss writing, too. In fact, I got on today to write something, saw your comment and realized it had been a while since checking in on you. I only missed 2 posts, but, wow, what powerful posts. Thinking of you and thinking we should get together.


Post a Comment