Why Keep Writing

A poem that helped me remember why.

Sometimes I wonder what purpose my writing is serving. I have moments of doubt, moments of a sense of loss of direction. The critical internal voices that have lived inside me and tried to protect me for so long can grow stronger at times as I continue to break their rules. Rules that have told me to be quiet and keep things to myself. Rules that were meant to keep me safe, but kept me isolated. 

Then recently a friend sent me this quote:

 In his poem “Why Bother?” Sean Thomas Dougherty wrote, “Because
right now, there is someone out there with a wound in the exact
shape of your words.”

Oh, yes. Now I remember. 

My intention is to write from my heart and to speak my truth as authentically as I can. Sometimes it feels scary to feel so vulnerable. Some of my friends ask me how I can be so open and vulnerable on the written pages that go out to total strangers. Funny, I don’t feel like they are total strangers, perhaps only some of them being people that I have not heard from. Those that have responded are no longer strangers to me. We share a connection, one that is important to me. 

As I continue on my path of aging, I am aware that if I speak of my vulnerabilities, I have owned them. How can anyone use them against me, really, if I have already admitted them aloud? Why not be open and connect with those who may speak the same language that I do?

And then I get responses from readers who are kind enough to read my work and who take the time to write back to me. 

They tell me that I touched them somehow with my writing, that I have helped to put words to some of what they are feeling. They write that they feel a bit less alone. 

The woman who wrote that I put words to what she has been feeling but had difficulty naming for herself. There can be relief in naming things. 

The man who resonated with something that I wrote and said he was right there with me. I felt that companionship. 

Those that connect with what I write and tell me that I am not alone. They feel things that I feel. They hear me and see me, and even offer comfort at times. 

I am so grateful. That is one of my intentions, to help others feel a bit less alone on this journey of being human, and now especially this aging part. 

We are all together on this path of life. And as we approach the later stages, aging can bring up a lot of questions and feelings. It can bring fear, sadness, and losses. It’s all part of the journey. Especially as more losses keep coming as we continue aging, if we are lucky enough to live that long.

It can help, I believe, to share our feelings and talk about all of this along the way. We die alone, as we are born alone, but we can take some comfort in holding each other’s hands along the way. In sharing what our experience is. In revealing who we are and what we are feeling. In being seen and heard. 

My writing is my attempt to reach out and connect, as well as to give voice to all that is within me. I am so grateful to be able to do that. I am grateful for each of you who takes the time to read what I write, and sometimes to write back to me. I cherish your responses. I feel a connection at times that I don’t always feel even when in someone’s physical presence. A connection that comes from our souls, from things deep inside of us that we don’t always speak aloud to everyone. 

Writing is also a way to connect with myself. To validate and hear those parts of me that I may have tried to shut down earlier in my life in my misguided attempts to please others at the expense of myself. To finally be able to feel and say this is who I am. This is my truth. 

So, write I shall. With gratitude and awe at the beauty of connection and where we may find it, including connection to the deepest part of ourselves.