Have you ever found something that makes your heart sing? Maybe it’s playing an instrument, cooking a delicious meal, or painting a picture. Maybe it’s hiking in the mountains, teaching little kids how to read, or building something out of wood.
I think writing makes my heart sing.
The other night, after I put Silas to bed, I sat on the couch with Seth and told him I was feeling a little down. I couldn’t quite figure out why.
After talking with him for a bit, it became more clear: I miss writing.
I miss having a creative outlet and a way to express myself. Writing is my form of therapy. And I have not been keeping up on it. Amidst the diaper changes and story times, I have discovered the art of self-neglect in the most innocent way.
It feels so good to get my thoughts out on paper (metaphorically speaking), releasing them into the world.
It’s like letting a giant breath out of your lungs, knowing you will feel better on the next inhale. Sometimes, the words you write can even be a gift to someone else. Your words might inspire, uplift or teach. They might make someone laugh, cry, or gain hope.
Not only does writing help me, but it might impact someone else. That thought motivates me.
I need to find time to write again. Whether that is squeezing it in during nap times or waking up before the rest of the house, I have to find time to sit in silence and do something for myself.
When I write, I am happy. I am a better mom, wife and friend. Writing makes me a better person overall. And when we are working to be the best versions of ourselves, the future is limitless.