The people who have gathered here to read what I write seem to prefer when I write from my heart rather than when I discuss business-related things.
This is what the stats show.
Well, that’s a huge win for me.
I’d much rather do that kind of writing, and it’s really what the Write Now Substack is supposed to be.
It’s for when I must write now because I can no longer contain the words.
For me, writing is therapy.
I write because I have to. It helps me maintain what little sanity I have left. 😆
When I write about things, I understand them more clearly. I understand better how they relate to me. I can express my true feelings.
The paper or this box never give me a strange look over something I’ve said. I can complete my thoughts without judgment, including from myself.
It’s all about being relatable.
I must laugh a little to myself. Here I am, a neurodivergent, late-40s, white woman. No one’s really looking to tap me for resources, opinions, or even a voice. To be honest, I feel quite silenced in today’s world, invisible even. As a learned introvert, I’m more than fine with that. As a former extrovert, I’m not.
Being relatable feels insurmountable sometimes.
Remember a few months back when I said I’d brainstorm topics to write about here? I’ll need to rework that list.
I may still talk business from time to time, but perhaps that will be the weeks when I publish an extra post.
Things are going to get crazy around here. You’re going to see a lot more therapeutic writing and probably some poetry as well.
You may think I’ve lost my mind at times, but I assure you, I’ve been trucking along like this for decades. I’m okay…really! 👍
The coolest thing ever if you resonate with one of my posts would be to drop a Like or a Comment. I’m glad you’re here and I hope I remain worthy of your inbox.
I figured that I couldn’t leave you with just a post about what’s been happening and what’s going to happen, so here’s a rough draft from my notepad on my desk.
Not my best work, but not the worst either.
12/19/2022 Untitled as of Yet
I cannot look at photos.
It’s hard to say your name.
Your smiles haunt me silently
From the picture frame.
I can feel your absence,
But try not to dwell
Too long in the tears
That never fail to well.
I don’t wish you here
Back on the broken earth.
I just wish I could feel you
In your new heavenly mirth.
But mostly know I miss you,
Though I’m doing okay.
You’re never far from mind.
I remember you every day.
I feel the same way about writing. It's always been my therapy. That's even made clear in a journal I still have from when I was 13 years old. Wow, the emotions in there! I'm trying to brainstorm what topics I'll be writing about as well, so far I just have a potpourri of ideas, much like my various published books. I really like your poem, too. I look forward to reading more.