The past few weeks have been stressful, to say the least. A family member fell critically ill, and I found myself spending most of my days in the hospital for a period of time. While they are now on the road to recovery, it’s been a big shock to my family. Before this, we had been blessed to never have had anything major happen. I’d honestly never been in the hospital, and we never understood just how valuable the support of family and friends was.
During this time, one thing that stalled, among others, was my writing. I didn’t know what to do, what to say, how to handle what was going on. At one point, I told myself to sit down and write. It was late, I was tired, but I knew it something I needed to do. So I grabbed a journal, jotted down the date, and poured myself out, writing not only about the circumstances, but also about how I was struggling with everything.
It made me realize that in tough moments, the physical act of writing helps me feel better. After only a few sentences my hand started to cramp and my pencil started to dull, but having the handwritten words in front of me and reading over it makes me feel better. And it lets me know that even though the times are tough, it doesn’t mean it’s time to shut down. It means it’s time to write my stories. To get these thoughts bouncing around in my head down on paper. To bring back that feeling of joy I get when I’m writing.
And it’s helped me realize that it’s not about finding time to write. It’s about making time in my day, dedicating myself to my writing, to my work, to making it better. Because at the end of the day it is a part of my dream. This is something I want to do forever, not just in the moments. It may not always be easy, but that’s not a reason to turn away. It’s in the tough moments of life to make time to do something you enjoy. To keep writing, to keep living.