I enjoy writing. I’ve been blogging since the word “blog” came to be. However the past two years I have all but given it up due to fear of how what I write would be used, as much of what I've written (even innocent family moments) has been used against me. I learned much about writing in those two years of not writing, including what can and cannot be said (no blogging about personal controversial life issues).

I hadn't only given up blogging due to fear of retribution, I also gave it up because I had always "blogged" about my family (as a sort of journal) and to keep doing so was extremely painful because of some family trauma.  I have since learned (again) to find joy even amidst the trauma.

Being, or playing at being, a "writer" in my immediate and extended family is also intimidating. There are a number of writers both professional, and those who have studied and mastered it. My thought has been, "Why write if someone else could say it better?" Recently I’ve realized I was being silly. The comparison. The self defeat. The giving up something you love, because someone else is better at it. Someone else is always going to be better. Realizing that, the past few days (literally) I decided again to start writing. When I’m not drawing, writing relaxes me. To write what I learn through life, reminds me to apply those lessons I learn. 48 hours ago I made the firm decision to go back to blogging. Less than 24 hours ago we received notice of someone upset for one sentence written two years ago. One sentence. And I thought it was a sign. "Don’t write!" "Run away!" "Let those who would take you down, take your passions, your dreams, along with your joys!" For just a moment, that made sense. And then I realized, I’m not the same person I was two years ago. In two years I have learned a lot, including there are things I can write about, and things I can’t – but I don’t have to stop writing because of the ever growing list of "cannot's". I have also learned since, that those innate passions I have, that the love of writing, of drawing, and of living – can only be affected by me. Not them. My happiness, has nothing to do with those who would take it away from me, because my happiness comes from something, Someone, much more eternal. Those who would take me down, cannot touch Him who is always there to lift me back up. Likewise those few interests I do have, including writing, can be moderated to appease the judging crowd, but doesn’t ever have to be stopped – there is nothing wrong with expression if it is done in the right way.

If there is a "judging crowd", why even leave my writing public? For that one person somewhere who may run into what I write and may relate. For that one person who may read what life has taught me, and who may have needed that same lesson at that same moment. I have had this happen a few times, maybe ten, maybe fifteen, not more than that. But knowing that a lesson I was blessed to learn through my own life’s triumph or tragedy was just what someone needed to hear while going through their own triumph or tragedy, strengthened me in applying those lessons more diligently, and brought me joy in knowing that, that knowledge which helped me in this life (knowledge that was a gift), could then help someone else. We’re not alone. Life happens. And life can still be joyous despite itself. That’s why I write. 

Jennica