Bucket List

For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to write.  Writing is therapeutic if that’s your thing.  Writing became a ‘bucket list’ item (#1 on mine, actually); but as it often happens, life got in the way.  I’d write a little, save the draft, come back to it a couple of years later, and repeat.  I think I came back to my writing every time I needed to escape.  And then one day, in August of 2019, I realized that I needed to cope, not escape.   That’s when I realized that writing was my therapy.

Have you ever heard ‘the voice’ that speaks to you in your head, seemingly out of nowhere?  I like to think that it’s God that pops into my head sometimes and gives me a jolt.  Well, one day in August of 2019,  God jolted me.  He told me to write my story.  Yes, I literally heard the voice in my head that told me to get to work and write down what I was trying so desperately to deal with.  It was so strong and so clear that I stopped what I was doing and immediately sat down at my computer to start writing.   I must have looked frantic, because my husband asked if I was okay.  I told him I was fine, but I couldn’t talk to him right now.  I was on a mission.

I wrote for seven months.  Then my story was complete, or at least my book was completed.   My story continues to evolve.  The book was my therapy, and I think telling my story has freed me in so many ways. My hope is that my raw, unapologetic ranting that somehow became a book will help some other parents who feel lost and confused by this whole parenting game.  Of course, I’m still confused; just a lot less lost.

Maybe there’ll be a part two.