Writing as medicine.
The less money I have, the more I write about money.
When I am feeling lonely, I turn to the page and surround myself with reminders of how connected I am.
If hunger shows up, I fill myself with words and that sustain me when times are tight.
Writing is medicine. In the way that food is medicine.
When I started writing this blog it was because my Morning Pages needed a container to spill over into. It was no longer enough to spend time each morning writing for myself.
I wanted to share my thoughts more consistently with others.
In the past, I took to social media when I was feeling inspired. Heartbroken. Fearful. Ecstatic. I wrote when I felt like it and then slunk back into a place of solitude and quiet.
I was longing to show up on a regular basis. I wanted to feel committed to something that mattered and that I was doing because I felt called to.
While I had kept a blog under a different name when I was processing my experiences as a sex worker, my posts were erratic at best. And while I appreciated the space to be vulnerable, I was looking for a way of sharing myself that wasn’t always so raw and exposed.
At the same time, I wasn’t interested in monetizing my blog. While I am in no way adverse to making money off my writing, my interest in keeping a daily blog had nothing to do with financial gain.
Not sure how this blog would turn out, I started writing it.
Writing is medicine. In the way that sunlight is medicine.
For years I have wanted to be published in online publications. And while I’ve submitted articles here and there, I’ve never made a consistent effort to write and pitch stories.
That feels like an essential next step. Because stories have the capacity to change how we think and how we see ourselves and each other and the world. And I think I’m ready to stretch myself in that way.
With this micro-beginning, I am reminded that I have to begin where I am. Just as you have to begin where you are.
And in the space between now and me getting my work into the publications that are aligned with what I do, I will write. To collect myself and my thoughts. To imagine what’s possible and let myself live in those moments briefly so I can bring that spaciousness and hope back to the present moment with me.
It’s not a lot to work with and it’s just enough.
Writing is medicine. In the way that art is medicine.
It can fill in the gaps between where you are and where you want to go. It can make the future you’re working towards feel more real and more possible for you. Despite just being words on the page—or blog—writing could be the thing that keeps you going when you otherwise would have given up.
It’s that powerful of a tool and practice.
So what medicine do you need that you can get through writing?