August 2, 2017


When I had my children, for years I could not write. 
I had lost my Voice.

Some say it was from stress chemicals blocking my creativity.
Some say it was diagnose-able.

In truth, it was a time of reckoning for the many turning points in my life - traumatic, beautiful, and those traumatically beautiful.

Regardless, it was a time of loss – family, friends, Voice - those who had been with me always. 

But I never ran away.
The only way out was through.

So, I found other ways to speak:
in my mentor’s office as she helped me untie the knots...
in the wee hours soothing a fussy baby...
in the sweet kisses on rosy cheeks...
in the tears shed alone accepting truths...
in accepting “not perfect...”
in pushing through...
in choosing to laugh along with my children...

And in committing to the best for them - even if it meant slowing down, or stepping away from what was no longer good for me.

In doing so, I’ve found my Voice once more.

Maybe it was here, listening quietly.
Maybe it was changing in a chrysalis.
Maybe it was waiting before it spoke.

Waiting for the right moment, to say –“Let’s go. I’m with you for the journey to come.”

Photo Source: