Why I'm writing

When Dad died, I was consumed with grief. There was pain and sadness everywhere, and some days it felt like there wasn’t room in my head for much else.

I had to do something with all that pain.

It was spring, and my flower beds needed planted. Being outside has always been good for me. Sunshine, dirt under my fingernails, being surrounded by nature. And right then, I needed to make something beautiful during a really hard time.

So I went outside and started working, hoping to find some distraction and peace. Instead, I got snakes.

So many flipping snakes.

Years earlier, I’d made a covenant to stop being a serial killer of snakes as long as they stayed away from me. I was trying to improve my snake karma.

The snakes were making that difficult.

In the ridiculousness of trying to remove them without touching them or killing them, I realized I was laughing at myself. If someone had been watching me, they’d have been laughing too, wondering, “What in the hell is this lady doing?”

And I felt a little spark. I need to write this down. This is funny.

I didn’t know what I was going to do with it. I used to write, but I hadn’t written in years. I just knew I wanted to share it. I’ve always shared the ridiculous things that happen to me with friends on Facebook, and this was too good not to tell.

So I wrote it. Then I wrote another one, and that’s how the Snake Chronicles started.

I didn’t know it when I started writing about those damn snakes, but I needed that little spark. I needed something besides grief taking up all the space in my head.

Writing has become a little like an IV for me. It isn’t curing anything. It doesn’t make me miss Dad less or change the fact that he’s gone. But it gives me something I need while I’m trying to figure out how to live with that.

For a while, my brain and my heart get a break.

I can put the grief over here and concentrate on something else. I can laugh. I can create. I have something to look forward to besides getting up and logging in for work.

I haven’t wanted to be around people very much since Dad died. I’ve needed to pull in a little, stay close to home, and give myself time to process everything that’s happened.

But I don’t want to disappear from the world either. Writing lets me do both.

I can cocoon myself a little while I’m trying to heal and still reach outside of it. And the things I’m writing are helping me look outside of myself, too.

“Monday Moments” reminds me that sometimes a small shift in perspective can change how I see what’s happening right in front of me.

“Something Good” keeps me looking for good things in the world when something really sad has happened in mine.

Sometimes the good is tiny, but right now, tiny counts.

I share those things because I know I’m not the only person carrying something heavy. If looking for something good is helping me, I hope what I find might help someone else notice a little good in their own life, too.

And then there’s “Life According to Dogs.”My five emotional support friends are pretty good at reminding me to stay in the moment. They don’t worry much about yesterday or tomorrow. They’re just happy to be here.

I’m trying to get better at that too.

I think that’s what all of this writing is doing for me right now. It’s making me pay attention when it would be very easy to disappear into grief. It’s giving me reasons to look for something good, something funny, something beautiful, or simply something happening right in front of me.

It doesn’t make me miss Dad any less. It helps me keep living while I miss him.

And that is really how Anyway—Off We Go started.

Because life doesn’t stop when your heart is broken. The laundry still needs done. The dishes pile up. You still have to go to work. The yard still needs taken care of. And the dogs still need walked.

So you put one foot in front of the other. You carry the grief with you, and you keep going.

I don’t know where any of this writing is going. I don’t know if I’m building a community here, if I’ll write a bestselling novel, if some of these stories will become books, or if I’ll mostly be writing for myself and the people I love.

I don’t need to know yet.

Right now, writing is helping me through a really hard time. Along the way, I’m leaving behind the stories, memories, laughter, and little pieces of our lives that I don’t want to lose.

And it does my heart good when something I’ve shared makes someone snicker or smile, helps them feel connected and a little less alone, lifts someone’s spirits on a hard day, or brings back a memory of their own.

All I know is that if I keep writing, I keep going.

When you’re carrying something heavy, find something that lets in a little light.