The general consensus is that it takes twenty-one days or three weeks for a new habit to form. A few weeks ago, I heard a psychologist say it takes longer than that and I believe her. When I began writing two decades ago, I would never have imagined that I would share my writing with the world. A mentor had given me a journal and I suspect that she sensed my need to express my thoughts via writing. Or, perhaps she thought a journal might have suited me. It did. She passed this year and although I don’t remember any of our conversations, I do recall her sweet spirit and the gift she gave me-permission to express myself honestly. Prior to this, the only writing I did was for school and short stories I wrote for myself.

Two decades and over twenty journals later, I am still writing. There is an ebb and flow to my writing which means there are times when I write several pages a day for weeks or months on end, and other times when I write sporadically. The pressure of a global pandemic along with the political, economic, and social unrest that occurred in 2020, resulted in depression. These things were an added burden to the personal struggles I was experiencing. Most of last year proved to be one of those times when I found little comfort in journalling. Usually, I had to force myself to write or my emotions reached an unbearable level and writing was one of my few escapes. Good friends who knew about the importance of writing in my life often asked whether I was still journalling. My usual response was, “Not as much as before. It’s hard to write at the moment.”

One of the reasons I’ve chosen to share my writing with others is because I know my experiences are not unique. Millions of people have suffered from cancer. Many have battled it more than once. Like me, others have felt the sting of rejection and wrestled with questions of self worth. Still others have questioned God about the meaning of life’s pain and tragedies. At the risk of being told I am offering unsolicited advice, I am extending an invitation to others to have conversations about deep rooted things. Perhaps you are already having these conversations. If so, I am glad because we all need permission to share our lives in safe environments. Perhaps you are someone who keeps things bottled up. As someone who can be private and has slowly opened up to others over the years, I will not preach to you about lowering your walls. I know how comforting they can be.

I constantly return to writing because it is a necessity and a source of joy. There is a freedom in writing that I don’t often find in other spaces. Writing has also allowed me to become better acquainted with myself. Thousands of hours of jotting down my thoughts have provided me with opportunities to process things that I did not even know I had buried. A few weeks ago, I looked up a compulsive behavior I had not thought about in years and reflected on my time in high school. I will write about that at another time.

Sometimes, consistency is a matter of necessity. I write because it is one of my fundamental needs. More importantly, I need to write in a manner that allows me to express myself authentically-no shade to academic writing, but really. I write to remind myself that I do not need to use academics or religion as facades. I am tempted to hide behind both of these things and it is a struggle to grapple with the intersections of faith, socio-economic class, gender, nationality, race, size, and other identities I have not even considered.

I write as a method of investigating my inner life. I keep finding things that surprise me and enable me to make the connections between thought processes and certain behaviors. So, I will keep writing.