“Writing is the only thing, that, when I do it, I don’t feel I should be doing something else.” – Gloria Steinem

I discovered my love for writing when I was child, but I didn’t nurture it. When I grew older, I opted for a career with a steady paycheck because that’s what I was raised to do. It made total sense to pursue an occupation that would allow me to provide for myself. Writing didn’t seem to be that type of career. (In my opinion, writing isn’t a career. It’s a passion; an art form. It seems to be more life than a part of life. It just is.)

Now that I’m wiser and have experienced what it’s like to work for a “steady paycheck”, I can honestly say, I made a huge mistake choosing a path I wasn’t meant to be on. Maybe I had to go through it to understand who I am and what I’m supposed to be doing. However, that still doesn’t stop me from kicking myself every once in awhile.

When I stopped dreaming and started writing, something inside me came alive. I long to write. Writing is the sustenance my mind, body, and soul craves. Writing is like the fruits and vegetables our bodies need to maintain energy, whereas the typical nine to five is like four all-beef patties separated by three different cheeses, topped with bacon, lettuce, tomatoes, chili, and who knows what else, crammed into a bun.* Yeah, I guess it might be delicious, but your body’s going to be pissed with you.

Writing is a necessity for me. There’s nothing else I’d rather do. It gets me through the bleak moments in my life. Those moments that are beyond my control. Chaos swarming around like bees. Instead of getting caught up in it, I choose to be still. In this stillness, I search within, sifting through those vulnerable places, and pulling out pieces of art.

When I’m writing, I’m at peace. Grant it, there are moments when I wonder what the hell I’m doing, but those moments don’t crush me. The doubt and frustration that comes with doing what I love feels completely different from doing what I abhor.

Giving into my passion causes me to relax into the space that was created specifically for me. I’m no longer contorting myself into job titles that were constructed for someone else. Yes, I need a job, and I’d work a typical nine to five in order to make ends meet, but I’ll no longer sacrifice my passion for file reviews, efficiency, customer service surveys, etc.

Even though I’m living through uncertain times, I’m pretty sure when it comes to my craft, I’m on the right track. Writing isn’t like skipping through a field of daisies with butterflies fluttering about. However, it makes sense while everything else just seems off.

While I’m not making a living (yet) off the words flowing from my fingertips, I can’t see myself doing anything else. It just feels right. This is my purpose. It’s who I am and I won’t stop being myself.

 

*I do enjoy a good burger, but this is just too much. My stomach cramped up just writing those words.