Here's the deal, homies. What has stopped me is that I feared I didn't have a singular focus and that was required of a writer. That I had to pick a topic and stick to that. Despite the evidence, I don't want to write about being a widow all the time. I don't want my only words to be life after loss. I'm more than that. Stick with it.... I'm going to sound quite full of myself for a hot second.
I'm a fun parent.
I'm a traveler.
I'm a brat.
I'm super human.
I'm more than a sum of my past experiences.
And, frankly, I need an outlet. I need an outlet even if I'm the only one reading it.
So, today, April 53rd (we're quarantined; no one knows what day it is), I commit to writing once a week or more. It'll be a train wreck at times. It'll be beautiful at others. I'm going to spill all the tea. I'll try to be classy about it. I'm going to purpose my thoughts. My Hart is on my sleeve for eternity. I'm just gonna start showing it off.