I always managed to find help, because I cared about my life. As I wrote these blogs, I found help although there was a realization of how many people might read it and judge me. It was daunting at first, and it took all of me to be courageous. Perhaps people might label me deranged or mentally inept, but my triumphs came in the actions of writing, the expression of the depth of my heart and I believed that through it, there was hope. For each time I found conflict, I found help, and I shared them through this blog, to let those labels diminished and let others empathized through me.
As I wrote each blog, I also breathed in calm and peace, as I surrendered my journey in writing, giving power to change the mindset of those who disliked the issues I wrote about. It was to trade my sorrow, for the sake of enlightenment and compassion. It wasn't a contract, with services rendered each time, but hopefully the healing and grounded feelings came with each blog.
A woman might be gratified by it or a man might found identity through survivorhood. Whatever the form, I was grateful through writing it. It gave me rest for at least 15 minutes through creative writing, as I lend a helping hand to the world.
One day, a person might stumble upon these blogs and found it interesting and helpful, giving him/her thorough fuel for life and literature. One day, it might be someone who was broken just like I was or just as you were before you became a rockstar. In essence, it was a choice worthwhile the effort, not only for the sake of writing, but also for the sake of love and humanity.