I recently attended a writing retreat (I’m actually still here now) and one of the things we had to do as a group was make a commitment stating our next steps when it comes to our process. My commitment was to actually write.

Once a week for the next month I will write. I haven’t decided what exactly I will write or if I will write on both of my blogs (yes I have another blog), but I made a promise that I will write

Writing has always been my own little personal therapy. As soon as I could string words together I was making up stories or writing in my journal as a way to release my thoughts.

When my dad died, I wrote. When my brother died, I wrote. When my sister died, I wrote A LOT.

When I was in love, I wrote. When I was way out of love, I sulked and then I wrote. Even talking to God sometimes I feel like it’s easier to write than to say things out loud.

So why does it seem like so much work when it’s something I enjoy to do so much?

I don’t like vulnerability.

Aha moment. 

When I write I’m sharing about me and my emotions and my experiences… and guess, what I make myself vulnerable.

So I’ve taken the first step and admitted I have a problem. I’m a writer who doesn’t like vulnerability and is struggling writing this post because I feel too open lol.

Now I’m working on fixing the problem.

So bare with me just a little. I’ll get back into sharing about travel, music, arts, my random lists and all that’s in between. But at least once a week I’ll freely write. With no rules and no structure about whatever the heck I want to.

If you made it this far thank you for reading my brain dump. There is more to come… along with an actual travel-related post soon.