Why I Write – Childhood Memories

Like all good habits, committing to writing every day is going to be a struggle for me.

So why force something that doesn’t happen naturally?

Because I know it’s worth it and I am working on my growth mindset. Let me explain.

 

Why I Write

When I was young, I was a ferocious reader. I read a lot of fiction books. Horse books were my favourite and every time I went with my Mom to the local thrift store, I would buy as many 10 and 15ยข books as my Mom would let me.

I always wanted a horse but I couldn’t. So I lived vicariously through my books and through my friend Shelley who was, in my mind, luckier than I was. Shelley’s family owned several horses and Shelley even had her own horse!

Reading was my way of escaping to the exciting world of horses where I wanted to live.

Creative Writing

In grade 6, I had a home room teacher who gave us hours for creative writing. I wrote story after story about horses or other animals. This time, I became the main character. I could fully live out my fantasy of having and riding my own horse.

While many of the other kids hated creative writing, I looked forward to it. Story creation was fun!

 

Growing Up

In my late teens, journalling helped me through the months my Mom was sick with cancer and the year following her death. My writing was no longer creative. There was no escaping grief. Everyone else around me continued on with their lives and I was drowning in grief.

Writing was my way of pouring out my grief, even though it was more confusion and anger and the process of attempting to live a “normal” life even though I felt anything but normal.

I remember feeling the need to tell everyone My Mom Is Dead.

I was Motherless. Do you understand that?!

Do you understand me?!

 

Acceptance vs. Understanding

My goal has rarely been to be accepted. My desire has always been to be understood. If I tell you my story, you will understand me. You may not accept me but you’ll know the truth. And when you tell me your story — your true story — I GET you.

Recently, I have gone through several weeks of feeling lost. I have been trying to make a go of being an online fitness coach.

I wanted to inspire women, especially stay-at-home-Moms, to begin exercising regularly.

To love their bodies.

To know that they don’t need to be perfect — have the perfect body or the ideal workout routine — in order to be worthy.

I wanted women to know that good enough is Good Enough!

My message of self acceptance and self care is a hard sell. No one wants moderation and consistency and hard work and self love. They want extreme 21 day challenge that punish them. 7 day detoxes that set impossible standards. But that’s sexy. That sells!

 

The Emotional Eating Workbook for Women

I wrote a journalling book to help women overcome emotional eating. I sold four copies. It was truly a labour of love for me, so I didn’t consider it a big flop.

I wrote an ebook!! And I think it’s really good!

 

Moving On…

As a fitness coach, I offered several free workout challenges and free groups. Hardly anyone took me up on my offers. That’s what bugged me. Everyone complained that they didn’t have time or money to workout. I gave them a solution. And they didn’t respond.

I realized that what I was doing — or maybe how I was doing it — was not working. I didn’t have the finances to hire a business coach, but I could make money by writing. So that’s what I did.

I’ve written articles on pregnancy, fitness, and parenting, and the more time I spend writing, the calmer I feel.

I don’t think I’m an amazing writer but I know how to organize my work.

I am learning how to write honestly about parenting and life. I am sick of social media perpetuating the idea of perfection — whether it be having a bikini body, the perfect butt shape, the perfect kids, or the perfect home.

Life isn’t — and never will be — perfect. Can we stop pretending that it is!?

Here I am, a chubby Personal Trainer, a sarcastic Mom of 5, and an unsatisfied wife in a very small house married to a hard working, self employed, poor husband. It’s like the set up for a novel where everyone starts off struggling but ends up happy by the end.

But the end is not good enough for me. I want to be happy now. I’m not waiting until my life is perfect to be happy. I’m working on being happier today.

And writing helps me do that.

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