One year and one month

A year and a month ago, almost to this day, I wrote myself an entry in my phone’s “Notes” app. If you may recall, it was a week after the lockdown happened, and it was all so new to me. New to all of us. Here it is, lightly edited.


March 22, 2020

I feel sad. I feel angry. I feel guilt. I feel anxiety. I feel grateful. I feel empty. I feel a lot of things. But I don’t feel like talking about it. I feel like writing about it.

Writing is what I always go back to. I don’t know when it was that I discovered how therapeutic writing is for me. Maybe it was 2014 after I graduated from college. Writing saved me from a toxic relationship. Writing helped me discover my inner voice. Writing helped me connect with people I never knew recognized me. Writing led me to my spouse to whom I am happily married. Writing is a gift that I will never take for granted. Writing is liberating, it’s freeing. It’s everything I’ve ever looked for or wanted in life. It’s a way to express myself. To show the world my true colors. Some in my circles will read my writing, and some will not. The point is, writing allows me to record my emotions and thoughts in time. Some of those perspectives may age well- others won’t. But writing for me… is an activity I’d like to nurture and grow. Learn from. In the process, I sincerely hope it can help others. Inspire them. Make them feel heard. Seen. In ways I would have never foreseen. I would love to connect with the world through my writing. Who knows- this can be a rebirth. A new beginning. I know for sure, this pandemic, this global public health crisis that we are currently living in… it will change the way I interact and engage with the world forever. So… why not allow myself, give myself permission… to start something new in a time when it can’t hurt to be a little bit more brave, a little bit more vulnerable than I was maybe two weeks ago, or even two days ago. 


Today, I find it astounding that even back then, I knew that on the other side of this lockdown, I’d never be the same. I have indeed come back to writing. I have indeed become much braver. And I sit here today, dedicating my days to a writing practice that I have yet to discover where all it will lead me. (But I have an idea.) It’s like deep down, my inner consciousness, my higher self, my intuitive senses knew all along where this path would guide me. Incredible. Blessed. Humbled. I can’t wait to keep going and experience the ride.


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