I stopped writing for a while, AGAIN. Not because I don’t love it, but because life got loud. The kind of loudness that convinces you that your dreams can wait.

Silence isn’t peace for me. Writing is. Or, maybe it’s both. After all, it’s silent when I write. What happens inside of me when I don’t write? I feel uptight and filled with emotions that need to be spilled. That is usually when it is the loudest.

I didn’t stop writing because I ran out of words. I stopped writing because life got full. Responsibilities grew and the noise got even louder. And somewhere in between, I put my pen down. I put my computer away. I put everything away like it didn’t exist anymore.

This is my reminder. Not dramatic. Not loud. Just firm…

I owe it to myself to keep writing. Even if it is messy. Even if no one reads it. Even if it’s a short piece at the end of the day and I do not publish it. Although I should. There may be someone else that needs to see the raw, authenticity that comes out when I write.

I owe myself that release. I owe myself the refuge in releasing my words from my endless overthinking mind. The kind of thinking that over powers my souls path to move forward. I owe myself the clarity and I owe myself that space. The space that I create when I write. A space that is essential for me and only me. A space where I can free myself and speak my truth, unapologetically-ME.

And, I am done pretending otherwise.

Until next time….

Love & Light, always!

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