So perhaps we write toward what we will become from where we are. -May Sarton
I have often asked myself why I write. It sounds like a simple question, but it is not an easy one to answer. Recently I read May Sarton’s, Journal of a Solitude and was taken by the above quote. I think it gives a partial explanation of why I am driven to write. A born perfectionist, I am awfully hard on myself. Self-centered or co-dependent I blame myself for more than is necessary. Constantly I strive and reach for more. The chatter in my head defines my next tasks to work on. Exercise. Meditation. Yoga. Positive persona. Fake it….you’ll make it. Too much. Too fast. I realize I am not that perfect mother, that perfect wife that I dreamed I would be. I cry. I complain. And I notice all the dust bunnies on the floor and I am too tired to bother. Sometimes I write to escape, but mostly I write to understand. Who am I and who will I become?