What do you want to be when you grow up? I never answered writer. I did not even consider becoming a writer until a series of  triple “D” events happened in a two year period. Divorce. Disability. Devastating job loss. Abandoned by a husband of 28 years who became a stranger, left with an empty nest with sons in college, discovery of an underlying condition, and slowly exited from a teaching position leaves one questioning every decision they ever made.

Some people are sympathetic at first of course, but get a disability and one rapidly learns just how cruel the world can be. More bad days than good a person searches for a moment of happiness any way they can find it. For me it was doodling and scribbling my disconnected thoughts from my disconnected life while humming some forlorn tune on envelops, bulletins and finally notebooks.

As the months passed by and I realized help was fleeting and shallow in most cases unless from family who was far away I tried to pick up the shattered pieces of my life and stitch them together into some type of crazy quilt. It failed. Not enough of my life before the “D” days existed to become a cohesive whole again—ever. I would cry except when I wrote things in my notebook.

A year later with no good job prospects in my old field of work because of an economy that laid off thousands of teachers—ones without a disability I began writing education articles for free sites on the Internet. I had dabbled in writing all my life. Even taught 4th graders  how to write well for state exams. Used it to receive money for going to school, getting grants and helping others. Now I used it to fill the long days that were endlessly tiring from dealing with insurance that was not going to pay, human resource who was exiting me and not willing to compromise, and dealing with the emotions of watching a marriage die. Never dare dreaming I could use the tool that was healing me to create a new life.

On a whim and since I had articles on the Internet, an academic folklore paper published, education writings I began to fill out applications for SEO writing jobs. It was entry level, and short articles which at the time was all I could manage. They taught you how. Hired by Mometrix Media and a place called CopyPress. As I wrote in different styles, different topics and met new people I slowly began to heal, have coherent opinions again, and feel sometimes normal. Because it was creative my occasional moodiness was not abnormal.

Back to the question. Why write? It is for “self”. It is an extension of who you are and what you think. You are compelled to do it. It is like breathing or eating. A part of your natural biorhythms and needs. Oh what did  I want to be when I grew up? A helper and in some ways I still am.