Writing is a privilege

Being able to write for a living is an ENORMOUS privilege.

I struggle to express myself as well as I’d like face-to-face – I replay conversations in my head a thousand times afterwards: “ah, I should’ve said that…how did I not see that at the time?!”

Writing gives me an outlet for those thoughts.

Once I put pen to paper about a difficult situation or a feeling that I’d struggle to talk about, those thoughts are out of my head.

My brainbox has room to breathe and I can move on to something more joyful and productive than worrying…FYI, that’s literally anything.

When I lose a client, I write about it.

When I’ve had a bad day, I write about it.

When I’m feeling a sense of gratitude for everything I have, I write about it.

And when I stub my toe…well I just swear a lot and hop around the flat like a frog that’s been doused in hot sauce. Not everything merits an article.

The vast majority of what I write will stay unpublished. It’s just for me.

Writing helps me to process my experiences.

Writing is my outlet, and I’m privileged to have found it.