The magical things that happen in ONE year

One year ago today I published my sexual abuse story right here on this blog. It was a great big leap in the direction of allowing myself to be vulnerable, open and candid about a dark piece of my past.

I was relieved and proud of my choice because I had held my truth in for too long.

Because of that post, I swung a pendulum into motion with my writing. Little did I know that the posts that would follow, would inevitably start to shape a bigger story. My story. The stories that shaped me. The stories that ultimately do not define me but that have allowed me to peel my layers down and own my own truth.

This blog has served as a much bigger purpose for me. Forget that I started this blog back in 2007. It was 2011 when this blog started to shine for me. While my readership isn't stellar in comparison with other 'blogs' out there, it doesn't matter because it is not about that. I'm not competing with anyone in the blogosphere. I write for myself and if I get readers out of it or inspire one more person, so be it.

Blogging has given me the permission to freely express myself without restrictions or censoring.

I share my raw self, always.

Among the positive moments, I shared how I was published on Babble and was syndicated on BlogHer, twice.

I've written about my struggles with depression, anxiety, PTSD and my road to becoming a writer. Most importantly, weaved between all these posts and authentic expressions, I've been shaping my memoir.

My epiphany came when I realized the one thing that carried me through my childhood with the hopes of something bigger, books.

I am a memoirist. I write and say this with confidence.  

It has taken me one year to own this truth. One year.

I still struggle with other issues, but that's just part of living. I have no qualms in admitting that most of the time, I'm a mess. If you are too, don't ever feel alone.

Today, the writing of my memoir is flowing and ignited with fervor and heart. It has taken two years of my putting it aside because there were things that I still needed to process. These things cannot be predicted or planned or forced, they simply have to happen when they need to (much like the birth of a baby.) Even when the story belongs to you, you cannot tell it until you fully own it.

Here's to one year of self-discovery, dedication, perseverance, a personal will bigger than my imagination and always believing that you CAN bring the mundane and the magical together.

Thank you, my beloved and loyal readers.