Dealing With Saddness By Writing Throughout The Pain
Three years ago, I started writing a fiction for tweens, Belle in the Slouch Hat. It’s a story about a young girl who seeks revenge after her brother was killed during the Civil War. I consciously started the storyline for my grandchildren; and I needed something to fill an emptiness in me because of the losing my loved mother, and another special woman in my life. They died within two months of each other.
When ever someone we love dies, we will need to grieve; there is no way to avoid it. Everyone must move through the sorrow and agony in their own individual way. My solution was penning.
Just after the loss of those I cherished, it felt like something was stopping my hurting and guarding me through the harshness and misery caused by death. To this day, I do believe ıt had been the Holy Spirit helping me through one of the most hardship during my life. You many determine to call it different things, but I believe it was the Holy Spirit. Shortly after that, the reality of the deaths set in and I had no choice but to undergo the next phase of losing someone you love, the grieving process.
At the age of sixy-one, I sat at my computer; I began to craft, and I began to get better. I started writing a novel minus the full comprehension of what I was engaging in. I didn’t stop to contemplate the number of hours in which I would so willingly give to it, nor did I stop to think there was a correct way of doing it, all I know was I had to write. Sometimes it was down-right physically, mentally, and emotionally painful; other times, I felt drained of every once of energy in my body. Occasionally, my sense of meaning and my most treasured beliefs about life were challenged.
There was very little timeline for when I needed to finish; and no one could determine to me when it would be finished. It required considerable time; not a day, not only a month, not just one year, but two full years.
With the exception of the initial three pages of my book, I did not have an order, or a plot ot follow, I just wanted to write. I even built a imaginary barrier around me and didn’t want anyone to know exactly what I was writing, except my better half.
The more often I wrote, the more I want to to create. Writing provided an outlet to cry, to laugh, and have an adventure. Unconsciously, I had developed my personal support group with the personalities inside my story. For me, it absolutely was a secure setting to express my inner thoughts and process my saddness. I also found the best way for me to commenorate those I loved.
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