When I Grow Up

From the time I was a little girl, until the time I actually had to decide on a career path, I wanted to be a writer. You may note, if you go to the About Me page, that I am not, in fact, a writer! On any given day, I do write. I write emails, I write notes about students, I write lengthy evaluation reports, I write requests for communications devices. Maybe it’s just me, but that is not what my young self was dreaming of when I thought about being a writer. The writing I dreamed of being got tabled long ago when I realized I did not have the drive, the self discipline, or frankly, even the desire to write full time. In fact, floored, might be a better description because for years I have stayed too far distant from the writer who I was, and wanted to be quite some time ago.

So, you ask, why am I here writing now, starting this adventure of blogging my life. Maybe it is the recurrent bronchitis (3 times in 6 weeks) that has kept me from more active free time pursuits. Maybe it is the new school policy on locking classroom doors, leaving an employee such as myself, itinerant, without key, in the position of losing some of my independence in being able to access the bathroom easily (now I have to knock on doors and wait every time I need a bathroom break). The realization that my interstitial cystitis (bladder disease), once very manageable at work, was once again wrecking havoc with my freedom, and my options. Or maybe it was the fact that it is just time. Time to return to a piece of me who knew that when I grew up, I wanted to be a writer.


One response to “When I Grow Up

  1. Blogging seems like a good idea, Cheryl. Interestingly just last night I started a writing class for Lent at church. It was very therapeutic and enjoyable. Love Dad

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