I have wanted to write a book for at least twenty years. I have started and stopped several times, but never had the correct topic or the right drive to get it finished. If you asked me four years ago if I would write about the trauma I was going through with my son, I would have given you a resounding, "No!" But as time has gone by and I have come to except the struggles, and realized, with help, that I needed to write about them. I had a deep desire to put it on paper. Believing it would give me comfort is why I wrote. The words came easy, the writing was fluid, and as I relived each painful moment, in the four years of the memoir, it was cathartic and I presumed it would help others too.
It wasn't easy to write, at certain times I had to get up and walk away from my computer, breathe, leave it for a day or so, and come back to it later. My husband asked me why I was doing this if it was so painful? I simply stated that I had to, that it was a benefit to me, even if it was painful, and it has been a benefit. It has opened my eyes to understanding my son better. It has taught me a great deal about mental health and it has given me an opportunity to give advice to others going through similar situations.
I feel lucky to have experienced the things in my life that I have. Would I want to repeat them? No, but can I learn from them and aid others in their journey? Absolutely.