Why We Write

I've been writing for a long time. I have shelves full of journals at my parents' house starting when I was a pre-teen. I wrote my prayers and poetry and observations to no one in particular. Journaling felt so good. It was a release, a way to process, a way to understand myself and the world.

Having my stories or poems published felt very important, even if it was just the homeschool newsletter or the community college lit mag.

Writing meant the most to me when I became ill at 18 with a mystery condition, which left me with chronic fatigue for years. In the years before I was finally diagnosed with Lyme's Disease, writing was a safe haven, and often the only place I could make sense of my feelings.

Academic writing offered an amazing challenge to bring research and structured essays together. It was also the cause of many late nights and confidence crises. Finally having my dissertation bound felt like the greatest accomplishment.

The Writer, Ruth Chaney via The Met

When I started blogging years ago, it was a small way to share my writing into the ether. It created some sort of accountability, a way to organise my ideas, a platform to offer my little insights.

So when the world is saturated with blogs and everyone has ideas about everything, I still appreciate having this corner of the internet to put my words on the metaphorical page.

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