writer’s rehab

rehab – noun; a course of treatment designed to reverse the debilitating effects of an injury

People have always told me that writing is a muscle.  If you don’t use it, you’ll forget how.

For me, when I don’t write, I bring myself closer to a crippling injury.  I bring myself farther away from my best self and long to exercise as my former self once did.

this. is. my. writer’s. rehab.

Here is the background story for those of you who don’t know it.  One year ago exactly, I found myself submerged into a fantastical illusion of what I believed to be my best self.  I had the best of friends, my pick of men with jobs and good looks, a God working in my favor, and a pen that blew words onto paper like fire.  I was happy and quite frankly, lucky.

I graduated 3 weeks later with a bachelor’s degree from the number one journalism school in the country and wanted nothing more than to stay in Chicago and write. Well just 3 weeks after that I grew impatient at an underwhelming internship sitting by my Gmail account waiting for a job offer from someone fabulous at someplace fabulous.  It didn’t come and I let fear and logic pack my bags and put me on the first one-way back to Los Angeles.

After only 2 weeks, I had met with the executive producers of the number one talk show on television and had an above entry-level job offer waiting for me to start immediately.  I could quickly check a job, a plan, a job in television, and start on my career off of my list.  But what happened to Chicago? and writing?  I guess that would have to wait until the end of the three-year contract I had just signed.  Funny how quickly we’ll abandon our dreams.

So here I am. One year later. Submerged into a depressing reality of what I know is not my best self.

this. is. my. writer’s. rehab.

Here I am.  One year later. Back in Chicago. With nothing but a pen and a prayer.  I’ve gone back, way back to the basics.

I promise to keep myself in this sunny little studio until I write myself back to health.  Yesterday at church, a woman named Bertha told me to ask God to reveal myself to myself.  She was convinced that I am not who I think I am.  I knew that she was right because the tears that filled my eyes the moment she said that told me so.

So here’s to reversing the debilitating effects of me.  I know that I am my own worst injury.  I hope that this blog lives longer than these three weeks that I am in Chicago.  But I promise you and myself, that in these three weeks, with the help and accountability of you, I will re-birth the words, love, and happiness buried in my soul.

welcome. to. my. writer’s. rehab.

“I wish I knew how it would feel to be free.  I wish I could break all the chains holding me.  I wish I could say all the things that I should say.  Say them loud…say them clear for the whole wide world to hear…”

– nina simone

“i wish i knew how it would feel to be free” by nina simone