Writing and blogging saved my life. Thirty years ago, one week before
my birthday, my grandmother wrote her last note, desperately trying to make a point to someone who had no respect for her. She completed the note, set it on the nightstand, took pills, and went to her eternal sleep. The man she wrote the note to, concluded that her decision to take her final rest validated his invalidation of her. Years ago, on a
very bad day, after that same man sought to invalidate me,
I reminded myself that I could not allow others to invalidate me that way. I would make a stand, I would write not just a note, but all of it. I would put it where no one could remove it, and make backups. And then, even more important, I would choose to live. There are many wonderful things about writing. When we write, we get to complete our sentences, we get to even present multiple premises to our conclusions.
We get to complete our thoughts. We get to include every seemingly random detail we personally believe is relevant. We put them out there,
and those who want to listen, or read can, and those who don't well they can just go to hell. For me, writing brings a far greater understanding.
When I speak, even my best of friends that love me, and respect me,
interrupt me. That's just the way it is. But writing, you can just put it all out there. I will never leave a note on a nightstand to be discarded, and I will live a very long time to stand and fight for what I
believe is right.
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