I have always been a dreamer. A huge dreamer at that. Let's just say, “You can do whatever you put your mind to” was a serious rule in my everyday routine. I wanted to be everything from a teacher all the way to a cake decorator. And despite all of my outlandish dreams I had as a child, I was never told that it would be impossible.
There was grave importance in this. I was able to learn my abilities on my own and through extensive trial and error. I learned what I was good at and not so good at. I have always wanted to have a “cool” title when I got older not yet knowing where my true gift lay. How cool would it have been to be a cake decorating-forensic scientist-tattoo artist?
With such a broad imagination, comes many emotions. I can recall experiencing a number of emotions through my childhood; sadness mostly. Although I can't quite remember why I was sad all of the time, I can remember how I chose to cope.
I always kept some decked out diary or journal handy, most of them were given as gifts. I would write. I'd write about my day, about my emotions, letters about how my parents made me mad, doodles and anything else my 12-year-old mind could conjure up. I write endlessly through day and night. I slept on my writing as my journal was usually hidden under my pillow...how original.
With as much writing as I had done myself, it wasn't until a fifth or sixth grade creative writing/poetry class came about helping me realize that I was actually GOOD. I was always complimented on my writing styles as a young child as well as my ability to generate topics to explore and share with my classmates.
Writing was my therapy, and now it was my new found gift.
Through the remainder of middle school, through high school and through college I always loved my English classes. I'd write 3 papers before doing anything math or science related. It was like my best friends were the paper and pencils because like any best friend, they wouldn't say much of anything, just let you think everything you jot down is right.
I decided to study Journalism in college to see if it would be a fit. All of my other dream last had become minute and my little secret therapy would now become the rest of my life. To think I could write all day every day and get paid for it?! Writing would be my job that doesn't feel like work!
It's my refuge, it's my life, it's my one true gift beyond any other crazy things I could have imagined. It has been my weapon and my tool for helping others. My life has been quite hectic lately, one thing happening after the other however, all is at peace when I am writing. Every day I encourage someone battling something or someone with thoughts that they can't quite speak out, to write.
