I never wanted to become a writer.

I never really aspired to it. I wanted to become a nurse. Or a healer of some kind. Possibly a Hospice nurse. I thought about that a lot. I am a mother. I am a nurse and a healer. I take care of. I actually thought I might become a broadcast journalist. I wanted to share the news. I learned to think and type simultaneously when my father, a broadcaster, told me that this was the only way to write effectively. I would write compositions, term papers, and stories long hand and ask him to type them for me. He quickly gave me my own typewriter and told me I was doing it all wrong, that to think and type simultaneously was the only way I would become a journalist. I changed my mind. I didn’t want to become a journalist. Thinking and typing at the same time was difficult and my muscle memory and my brain reacted against it. But look at me now. I think and type. All the time. It’s my career. My father was right. I am a nurse and a writer. A mother and a healer. I write what intuitively comes to me…words of encouragement and healing. 

Although I didn’t realize it at the time, my journey to becoming a writer began when I started typing…

…playing “writer” on my new electronic typewriter. I would pretend to write words, long sentences, even paragraphs that were a jumbled mess because thinking and writing at the same time was difficult. But pretending was fun. I was an effervescent child, not quite here. Off in the clouds somewhere. I played writer and became a writer. I’m not sure many people approach their life choice this way, but I typed my way into it and now I can only think and type at the same time. I guess you could say I became what I pretended to be.

There’s mysticism in creating oneself.

We all do it. We think and become. I want to become the healer and help others understand that their journey is the journey of creating, manifesting, and becoming. 

Writing is a tool to teaching. I never thought about being a teacher, but I played at that too as a child. We set up “school” and took turns playacting. My friends and I loved playing school. I loved the teacher/student way. Looking back, I guess I’m somewhat stymied by it all struggling to understand the writer’s journey. How did I get here and why can’t I shake this complicated existence? I am a nurse, healer, student, teacher. A seeker. And I write to share. There’s no other way.