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Through Hardship Comes A Good Story: My Writing Space

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to literally stop what I’m doing, find a notebook, open up a word doc, or start a new note on my phone during times of physical, mental, and emotional struggle. Yes, I often write when I’m happy and have good news to share. Or because something great happened to me that I always want to remember.

But my best writing happens when I truly cannot understand why something has happened, or why I’m feeling a certain way. It happens when I need to try to create an understanding or an answer for myself that I’m not getting anywhere else.

I’ve been doing a lot of good writing lately (toot my own horn, much?) and I owe it all to my headaches. Well, I do have to give credit to all the other health issues I’m dealing with at the same time, also.

It’s been hard to figure out why my pain level has been so consistently high lately. It’s been hard to understand and explain to people the thoughts going on in my head during all of this. It’s also been hard to talk about why my emotions and demeanor have been so completely the opposite of the happy, talkative, weird person most know me to be.

And because of that inability to verbalize it all, I write about. It not only helps me piece together the puzzle that is my life (or at least helps me make a valiant effort at doing so,) but I think it also helps friends and family understand a little bit more about me and journey than they did before.

I find that writing during hardships we face help us get through those hardships in one piece. I find it helps me learn more about myself. And I always feel better when I place the last punctuation mark on my piece than I did before I started.

For example, just the other day, I didn’t find it necessary to leave bed. Curled up, took long naps, felt like “what was the point?” My head hurt too bad for me to do anything fun, so instead I wallowed in bed. Eventually, I forced myself up (or rather my dire need to pee did,) and took my computer outside in the 60 degree winter, opened my laptop, and started writing. I am not lying when I say that it was therapeutic. No, it can’t cure me. No, it won’t solve all my problems. And no, I can’t say I felt truly “myself” afterwards. But guess what, I felt a hell of a lot better.

Writing Space

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