Today, I am filled with gratitude.
Little could I guess how my path would weave, a few years ago. At my soul-crushing worst, I was a shell of a human with little thought as to how I could possibly continue on without my husband by my side. His death was also my death. I didn’t want to keep going. Begrudgingly, the breaths that I continued to take, despite myself and my most ardent wishes, breathed new life into me. I left behind an ‘us’ and forged ahead as ‘I’. Again, that had not been my plan. There was little I could do about it, aside from cling to my stubborn tenacity to never fail. I suppose at the time, I had nothing else to do.
Well, that fear of failure kept me getting up every morning for a long time. As much as my children needed me, they were both my salvation and anchor that threatened to drown me. They were the reason to get up in the morning. They were the excuse I needed to eat. And they were part of the tears that fell in my journal pages. Those pages were raw, filled with hurt, pain, anguish, and anger. The more words that were written, the better the flow became though. Not only did I begin to see through the fog, but my prose became more fluid and concise.
Grief was rewriting me.
I am not suggesting that grief can make a writer out of someone. Far from it. But it does break life down into what and whom is truly important. And as it closes a door, it makes you desperate to look around for that window to open. All those words that poured out of me finally found a home online and a window creaked ajar. I couldn’t have dealt with anything larger at the time.
Fast forward to today and I have written for several clients in both short- and long-term contracts. I have a dedicated office, where I craft stories, articles, blog posts and more from the comforts of home. I cannot help but furiously edit every word I put on the page, but also see where that has improved the skills I have. Every day my writing get a little better.
And if anyone asks, I proudly call myself a writer today.
No one can ever take that away from me. These words that fill my head and spill out are just one mark of that title. Life might change again—in truth it does every day—but a moment in time that stole my life and breath also gave me this. Writing.
Would I have come to this without my grief journey? I will never know. I can never erase those scars, and wouldn’t as they formed the beauty that I carry today. So that threshing was necessary for me. My grief and survival were key to rewriting me and my journey.
What moments made you the person who you are today? We all have them. You can read more of my back story in my Defining Moment that was entered in the Canada Writes “Defining Moments” contest. The contest is open to Canadian residents til February 23. Read the stories, vote for the ones that touch you or you can relate to most, and think about entering your own Defining Moment. The journeys that these people have taken are all amazing and the fact that they have written them proves it. You are too.
For we are all survivors of life and for that, be grateful ~