When I was younger – I’m talking 12, 13 – I started to discover my love for words. I used to cut out the car ads from the paper that we subscribed to (Audi usually had the best ones) because I loved the witty liners they used. Something about how they can get the point across with a touch of humour in just one line, really got me going.
In Polytechnic, my favourite subject was Copywriting. My favourite part of every project was writing up the rationale. People only wanted me in their group so they’d have someone who could write the reports and do the presentations. #ShouldIHaveBeenOffended?
My phone always had drafts of thoughts in a paragraph. I even had scraps of “I’m-going-to-publish-a-book-one-day-and-this-will-be-it” scribbles. When I was happy, I’d write. Sad, I’d write. Angry, I’d write. When I was packing up my room to move out after I got married I found a whole folder of scraps and I think I sat there on the floor for a good hour just re-reading everything.
I guess writing, or perhaps journalling, was a way for me to capture my feelings in one exact moment and transform it into something tangible that I can revisit at any time and relive at any time.
I restarted blogging (journalling) because I figured it was time for me to do something with myself, for my self, by myself. I have spent the last decade working in offices and for organisations which have taught me a lot. However, if there’s anything that motherhood has forced me to learn it’s empowerment. Self–empowerment. Using your own inner strength to propel yourself forward. Not having to rely on anyone. Believing that you can do it. Taking risks and trying anyway because you’ll always regret if you don’t.
Do it now. You can do it.
So here we are. Not only am I writing again, I’m putting it all out there for everyone to see.