March Writing Prompts

March 14, 2023

Prompt: Journal your reflective thoughts on a past event that impacted you and how you've changed as a result of it.

One of the biggest things that I've ever had to battle with was grief. Two large bouts of grief in specific, but the first one was the worst because I'd never had to really work through something like that before. I lost my other parent, my second mother, when I was 24.

She was my best friend and honestly probably the only person in the world I felt like understood me. At least, I felt like she was the only one who wouldn't hate me no matter what. I knew with her that there was unconditional love and with that I felt safe.

Losing her was absolutely the hardest thing I'd ever had to deal with, and I truly battled my own thoughts afterward. I didn't let anyone in, I didn't let anyone try to help, and I almost didn't make it through that alive. The drives home were the scariest part of it all because I'd spent each day telling myself it would all be better if I just did it.

Writing became my outlet again and it kept my mind occupied for a while. I'd always written poems and journals, but never books. Not until I got the idea for Solar Keepers. I wasn't even sure where it was going, but I just let it roll. I let the characters do what they wanted, and I followed with them.

My intention had only ever been to print it for my friends and family. It would be like a keepsake, but then I decided to try publishing it. After that, I really let my writing take way.

But it didn't save me. I wish I could say that it did, but it didn't. Those thoughts still came in waves and eventually got to the point that I almost broke. In the car on the way to work one morning, I called my mom. I told her what had been happening and cried the whole time.

What saved me was me. I saved me. I went back to therapy, I traveled across the country, I took time for myself. It was the first time in my life that I'd been truly single for as long as I could remember. 25 years old and I probably hadn't been alone since I was 14 or 15.

It all started coming together because I put the effort in to get through it. For years I had lied to my therapist. Not like huge, crazy lies, but lies nonetheless. I remember getting on that first call with her after my thoughts and being like "Okay, I'm going to be honest with you now." And she was shocked. Of course, she'd assumed I'd always been telling the truth, but I don't think I really let her in on just how deep those wounds were for me.

I didn't let anyone in, really. That's what we started working on together. I had to learn to let people in, to let people help, and to acknowledge that they do love me. When I started realizing that everyone can love me in different ways, that's when my life started to change. I started looking at how they loved me, and it made the difference.

My best friend, Connor, would go out somewhere and see something that made him think of me. It might be like a small toy or even just a drink he knew I liked, and he'd bring it home. That's how I knew he loved me.

Another best friend, Jenn, would text me almost every single night to check in. She never cared about having a full conversation, she just cared about making sure I knew she was there if I needed her. That's how I knew she loved me.

My mom would call me every day since we live 3 hours apart. It used to annoy me, but then I realized how much she just wanted to talk to me. She just wanted to hear my voice. That's how I knew she loved me.

And maybe those are stupid reasons to some people, but they were the things that caught my eye first after having that conversation with my therapist. It opened my eyes to allow people in, finally. Years of trying to just be that support system for other people had finally broken me, but now I finally felt like I could accept some help.

Now, don't get me wrong. I still have my days where my pride gets the best of me and I refuse to let anyone step in. Some days I sit in my car alone and let the tears go without telling anyone. It's still comfortable to me sometimes to just be alone in those moments, but I know that eventually I have to get up, get out, and go talk to someone.

The impact losing her had on me saved my life.