Baby Steps

My darling niece, The Queen, came for a visit on Sunday afternoon and her college professors have that child on fire for writing. She had passages highlighted in textbooks she wanted me to read. She had things she had written that she shared with me. We talked at length about story telling and seeing our lives as one story after the other. We talked about feelings and healing and life and we cried and laughed as we both thoroughly enjoy doing. We also painted our nails and ate Indian food, lest you think we were just having a emotional therapy session for five hours. 

Then she went back to college and I will be damned if her fire for writing, might have gotten under my skin. I haven't thought about writing for a long time. A little over a year since I have written anything here. Thought I might open my laptop tonight and just see how it feels. 

I am seeing a therapist. It has been suggested that I write some letters to some people. Even a letter to myself. I haven't done more than write two sentences. It feels hard, but maybe it is necessary. Maybe it helps to walk through the things bouncing around in your heart and your head, process them, sort them, feel them, put them in black and white on a page. Then put a period at the end of a sentence. That feels like the best part. The period. The end. 

You aren't supposed to mail the letters. You are supposed to burn them or shred them or destroy them in any way you feel like, to release the hard things back to the world and get them out of your head. 

So, this is me putting words on a page, doing some writing. Not the hard healing writing I need to do. But it is something.

I still very strongly believe, we can't do EVERYTHING. But maybe we can do something. 

Baby steps.