I don't write anymore, and most days I don't even think about writing. For some reason today I'm thinking about it. I miss it. I'm not a very good writer, I mostly have written, because it felt like it gave me some semblance of sanity to write. A way to organize my thoughts. I read an article the other day that suggests writing is a way to make yourself happier. I wonder how true that idea is? In part I think maybe it makes sense, and sense I've stopped writing, I have felt more depressed, more unhappy than I ever have in my life. I know though,that part of the habit of writing is the fact that I stop, and be still. when I write, most of the time, I spend time in the bible and in prayer. That has always, for as long as I can remember, been my day's ritual. I think, the part I miss about writing the most is the habit of being with God. I think it's time to get back to writing,at least that's what I want to do.
How had I come to believe, that the deep things of my heart and mind were not important? Who told me they didn’t care about the things I was feeling or thinking about? The truth of the matter was, that no one actually said I don’t care about what you think or feel, they just never bothered to ask. Never being asked is another way to let someone know that they are not valued. In response to some of the most important people in my life not bothering to pursue my young heart and mind, I believed I had nothing to offer or give that would be of any value to anyone else. I believed I was stupid. I heard it over and over in my heart and head with out a second of doubt of its truth. Not until my twenty sixth year did the truth that I believed about myself reveal it’s self as a lie. There were six of us who met each week, five younger women and our leader, a woman the five of us had approached to ask if she would be willing to let us learn from her and be mentored and guided ...
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