Hello, world. Welcome to my brain. I have no idea how to blog, or how to use wordpress, so please bear with me. I’ve had this site for several months now, but I’ve been afraid to use it. This is my writing blog, but it’s probably going to get a tad personal from time to time. My current writing project, you see, is my messy story. I’ve just been released from hospital (about three weeks ago now) for suicidal ideation/possible attempt. I’m almost 44 years old, a married woman with two older teen children. As I recover from this latest hospitalisation my husband and I are separated and my daughter is with him; my adult son has moved out.
So I finally decided, after long wanting to, to finally follow my dream and become a writer. I’ve always been told I can’t do it. That “real adults” aren’t writers. That writers aren’t supportive of their families; they can’t be breadwinners. They can’t be productive members of society…blahblahblah. I’m sure most writers and artists have heard all that negative bullshit before. It’s been part of my psyche for so long, it’s become a major component of my mental illness. Eventually this blog will become lighter, and my writing will branch off into other genres: fiction is my main passion. But right now, my story is my muse. It is pouring out of me onto the canvas of the page like a Jackson Pollack painting. Globs and splashes of messy colour that make no apparent sense. I invite you to join me as I sort out the mess and turn it into something that does make sense.
This terrifies me. I am the Introvert. I do not share lightly. My heart is triphammering in my chest and my face is burning, but I am going to hit that publish button. It is a huge, huge world out there, and my voice is so tiny. But someone is listening. I hope my miniscule voice can be a light in the darkness for you.