My words need a home
When I was a child, they soon discovered I had a problem with words. My sentences were broken up by stammers and hesitations when I spoke, and when they tried to teach me to read, I was very slow, and when I tried to write, my words sometimes came out backward. To make matters worse, nearly anything, any sound, any movement would distract me.
Sometimes, people can love most that which was denied them. I had to struggle and fight for my words, so I learned to love them. Writing has been a daily part of my life for most of my life, but it’s only been two years now that I’ve decided to show anyone. I always dreamed that I might be a writer, but I never thought it was possible.
There came a time when I was struggling with some pretty significant health issues, and I decided to share a part of my daily scribblings on Facebook. I’d given up on social media for many years before that, so the first response when people saw I wrote was “Wow, where have you been?” and, so I started to write about why I gave up so many of my social contacts, and many of my other thoughts, and I found that sharing my scribbled words was an entirely different experience than just noodling them down for my selfish dragon’s eyes.
I’m very green with Substack. Maybe we can learn this together.