Sometimes I look in the mirror and see a stranger, someone I detest, someone that is missing. I find myself in a world of struggle, where I have no control and no boundaries. Saddened by the negative effects cancer has brought me, I long for a full life just to better myself.
Growing up, I was a quiet girl, a private woman, and always kept to myself. Writing was my sanctuary. Although I never kept a diary, writing about anything else was my way to enjoy my simple life. I certainly had many interesting experiences I could write about, but never courageous enough to put my private thoughts on paper (in this case, my first Blog).
In a large pot of broth, one tiny piece of carrot won’t flavour the soup. So who am I to think anyone would even be interested in my little life. God knows there are bigger stories out there.
I only read books when it was required in school. I didn’t want to steal anyone’s style or ideas, even if unintentional. Storylines kept filling my mind with specific scenes I had to expand into a short story or novel. Plots and poems would want to jump onto pieces of paper or they wouldn’t let me be. So it’s almost as though I didn’t have this choice. I was drawn to writing at every point in my life. Whether I felt good or not, writing was what my heart wanted me to do.
With all the “little” experiences in my life that often took me away from my passion, it was never forgotten. In my eyes, it is who I am. Although, not published, except for a poem I paid to see in a collection following a contest I didn’t win, I always considered myself a writer. After all, we are writers if that’s what we do, not because someone pays us to do it.
Now after cancer, I want writing to be a career.
… this is an excerpt from a memoir I’m writing about having stomach cancer. In my next post, I will introduce myself… I hope you find inspiration in my passages.