Writing this blog is hard for me. It brings up so many negative memories as well as the old, familiar, horrible thoughts that torment me. I also have increased nightmares. The worst part is this intense sadness that settles deep within me that comes and goes. As I type this, it has reached the point where I sometimes have to remember to breathe (just like I felt for some time after Matt died). I struggle to act normally so no one sees what I’m feeling when I really just want to be alone and do nothing.
I often feel like it’s ridiculous that I am even writing this blog. I struggle with how to say things while at the same time wondering what should or should not even be said. None of it comes easily for me. I make mistakes and I do stupid things. As an example, I published the last post I wrote before it was really done. I realized it the next day and proceeded to edit, finish and republish it, but, since then, I have had ridiculing thoughts telling me that this just shows how ill equipped I am to write a blog.
I feel so much judgment in my mind about writing posts, but the truth is, for the most part, it’s really not that big of a deal. This isn’t something anyone is waiting with anticipation to read and it’s not earth shattering. I’m not even sure there is an audience for it. The questions I’m asked most often seem to support that thought – why am I even sharing my story – why would I want to put all this out there – and why bother?
Good questions.
I’d much rather tuck everything away and try to go on, looking like nothing has ever happened. Yet I am always called back to write. I’m not sure I can explain the calling except to say the thought of writing keeps coming to me over and over again until I finally do it. I usually fight it and will go for months without typing one word, but I always end up coming back. It’s like it’s something I need to do but I have no idea why. And maybe I’m not supposed to know the why of it all.
I used to tell myself that I wrote so that it might help even one person. Other times I told myself it’s so I can process everything and finally fully heal from my past. Maybe it’s both of these things or maybe it’s neither of them. Maybe, just maybe, if for no other reason, I’m just supposed to write because I feel God calling me to do so. There might not be a reason I will clearly ever know, but I need to write because He wants me to do so.
So I write. I write and struggle with the pain, nightmares and doubt believing the promises that God will work all things together for good and that He will give beauty for ashes.
~ Joanna Lynn
