I just finished writing a story. Nothing new about that. The difference this time? I reached deep into my own personal experience and pulled emotions I am still trying to deal with right to the surface. I wrote it in an hour and didn’t think much about what I was really saying. It wasn’t until I finished and let my husband read it that the tears flowed. Here were the things I’d been trying to say for 18 months. The things that I almost feel not allowed to think because of my beliefs.
So now it is on paper and I need to make the decision. Is it too personal to share. Was the writing experience in this case a cathartic way to deal with grief? Because I am a writer, I write, I submit, and I wait for the response. This is no different. I wonder what other emotions are percolating deep inside trying to get out?