My Voice

I begin to get upset and obsess over little things when the depression starts to woo me and pull at me.

And when I say little, I mean little.  Like today I felt horrible because I’m not a funny blogger.  I decided that must be why a blogging friend didn’t ask me to guest post.  Le sigh.  Who cares, right?  I mean, dudes, I am barely keeping up with my own writing!!  But nonetheless, I stew.  And stew and stew.  I go round and round in my head.

At the same time I worried that my writing didn’t matter. I’m  not entertaining anyone with my wit and I’m not helping anyone with my candor.

So again, I stew.  Thankfullly, I have a great group of people around me.  I mentioned some of my ruminations to a friend.  She, and another, told me my writing did matter.  And another friend, reallly made it real, when she told me I had to tell my story.  It is my testimoney that no one else can tell.  I talk about the pain and depression when maybe others would stay quiet. (Like right now when I would rather keep my petty silliness to myself, yet here I am, writing it.)

“Embrace who you are, the good, the bad, your strengths and weaknesses….  Your life is a testimony, even the parts you think are insignificant.”

She’s right, you know.  My story, all of it, is mine.  Maybe you need to hear it, maybe someone else does, I don’t know, but here I am writing it.

What do you need to share?  What does someone else need to hear from you?  Write it, say it, own it, celebrate it.

*This post is dedicated to the many amazing women and bloggers I know.