perils with writing and whatnot
This assignment, My Heart Is At Work, explores emotions through writing.
“When tears come, I breathe deeply and rest. I know I am swimming in a hallowed stream where many have gone before. I am not alone, crazy, or having a nervous breakdown…My heart is at work. My soul is awake.” — Mary Margaret Funk, Author of Thoughts Matter
As it was with the first lesson, I had my choice of which of five questions to answer.
What is the greatest intangible gift given you?
Until I was an adult, even after my son was born, I could not wrap myself around the thought of unequivocal love. My parents told me that they loved me of course, but I lived under the impression that I had to behave in a certain way to get that love. Mind you, I wasn’t getting this notion from my parents per se. What happened was that I would see their frowns when I’d do something I shouldn’t, and interpreted it as ‘They don’t love me now.’
As I grew up, I began to understand that their disappointment didn’t last forever, yet I still, somehow, felt that all love is conditional. I felt this in my first marriage too. Oddly enough, it wasn’t this feeling that broke up our marriage. (I’m still not sure if I’ll ever tell that story.)
During most of the time that my son was growing up, I worried about if he loved me or not. As before, it wasn’t anything that I was actually seeing in him. It was my own interpretation of what love is that was hanging me up.
When I married for the second time to the man that I call ‘Hubby’ here in my blog, I knew what I felt was love. At first, I wasn’t all that sure about him loving me because of this burden I had been carrying around with me for what seemed like forever.
Late one afternoon, I felt that I was losing it. I felt that I was going to explode if I didn’t find a way to release the tension in me. Hubby was already home from work, sitting in the living room watching TV with his daughter and my son. I stood at the west end of the living room close to the kitchen and announced that I had to leave. I said nothing about coming back or where I was going. I got into my car and drove until twilight hit. I sat there in the car that I had driven out of the city to heaven knows where. The tension had finally diminished.
By the time I got home, it was pitch black out. Hubby met me at the back door. He took me into his arms and asked me if I was all right now. My answer was yes of course, but I also added at question. ‘Do you still love me?’ His answer – ‘Of course I do.’ And he hugged me tighter.
To tell you the truth, no one had ever answered that way before. Everyone else would say something like ‘Don’t be silly.’, ‘What do you think?’ and other such lines.
I, now, know that I am unequivocally loved.
A DAILY RITUAL OF WRITING
A Blog On Writing
Helping others become their best
Music, Musings, Memoir, and Madness
A manual for the life within!
Join me as I edit my first novel and aim for publication
Learn how to write poetry, fiction, personal essays, and more.
take a trip with me to the darkside
Author of Young Adult Fiction
Official Website of Luciana Cavallaro
How to stay alive until you die, starting now. Writing helps!
A place to share insight and information about the many forms of writer’s resistance (writer’s block, procrastination, distractions, looking for answers in the fridge, keeping yourself too busy to write, etc.) so you can stop resisting and start really enjoying your writing.
Sparked by Words
Jean M. Cogdell, Author-Writing something worth reading, one word at a time in easy to swallow bite size portions.
A Writer's Journey
living well to age well
Sharing writing tips, information, and advice.
Eccentric and skeptical
"I tramp the perpetual journey."- Walt Whitman
Andrew's view of the world in poetry, prose, and picture
Aspiring writer Carla Doria trying to find her writing path...
Random thoughts, life lessons, hopes and dreams
Fostering a community of creative writers through articles, comments, writing prompts and a healthy, supportive environment.
Asian Australian. Multiculturalism
Life and scribbles on the far side of SIXTY-FIVE
Writing allows me to live many lives in one