I’ve finally started writing my book – Unshackled.
For several years women have asked me when they could hold my words in their hands. The 52 Mondays series of seasonal mindfulness journals were a first attempt at this.
I had no idea when I started writing my journals that they would carry me through the final days of my son’s life.
And now that they’re done, and he is gone, I need to keep writing.
Several years ago I starting working with an agent and walked away. It wasn’t time.
Last winter, around the time my son wrote out his will and tried to end his life for the first time, a publishing house reached out to me with a book deal. I needed to be present for my son. It wasn’t time.
This fall, 2 months ago, I decided it was time to start writing and then a serious car accident derailed my plans.
A small whisper tells me that maybe if I can just get through the first 100 days that I’ll be OK. I don’t know if the voice is right or not, but I started counting.
Some mornings I wake up and feel like I’ll explode if I don’t get some of the swirling rage and pain and love for him out of me and onto paper. So I write.
I aim to write raw and honest. Unshackled.
I think writing may be the way that I find my forward.
My goal isn’t to write well – to worry about how I’ll publish or if people like what I have to say. My goal is to simply be real and to find a way to keep living, wholeheartedly, without my son.