On Saturday, I wrote... a LOT. Prior to that, it had been a while. Thoughts of writing had swirled in my head at random in the prior weeks, but there wasn't an urge, or a need... just a thought here or there that I could write about this, that or the next thing, or that I should document this, that, or the next thing. But, alas, I didn't take the time. I didn't have the energy, or the drive, or the focus, or the motivation, or the ...
But, on Saturday, I wrote... a LOT. On Saturday, I needed to write. From the most inner parts of my heart, I wanted to write. I yearned to get all of the clutter, the confusion, the emotion, out of my brain and onto the page in front of me. I had almost forgotten how therapeutic writing is for me. I had almost forgotten how important it is to actually process details, thoughts, and feelings.
On Saturday, I wrote... a LOT.
On Saturday, some healing happened.
I had almost forgotten.
Saturday's post was a recap of one of the more horrendous weeks I have experienced in 34 years of life. You can read about it HERE.
And, if you are at all compelled, there has been a Memorial Fund set up for Little Oliver HERE. I debated including the link, but I decided that if you say, "No", I am OK with that. If you say, "Yes", I am OK with that. If I say nothing, I am not OK with that. If everyone I know were to give $1, the impact would be beyond my wildest dreams. But, if I am silent, there will be no impact.
3 years ago