Each writer has an intention, an objective set that gives the often painstaking process of baring one’s soul, meaning.
That’s the artist’s way – writing, film, photography, dance or painting – and any expression of thought or feeling that I may have omitted.
And some writer’s, those who are not crafting real-time, self-help or reflective pieces, those who write for themselves – diving into a fantasy world where they can transform into someone or something else while hoping to create a magical euphoria where readers can escape to – also have an intention. An objective.
But what we all learn – the callous realist and the magical fantasist – is that despite our intentions or objectives, readers perceive messages in such varied ways. They interpret what we put forth from where they are – or who they are.
And as admittedly infuriating as this can be, it opens another path from where we can express our thoughts in an attempt to gain clarity, understanding and hopefully – acceptance.
I learned today that my writing has been perceived in a myriad of ways – some inspired, some grateful, some angry and some reaching out to ask me what the heck was going on with me.
Scratching my head.
Some viewed my articles as inspirational – and some perceived them as depressive.
And this is why I write.
This is why I choose to share my personal and professional battles. This is why I made the decision to bare my soul. And this is why I share it publicly.
Because for each person chastising me for coming across as depressive, there are twenty to one who felt inspired and encouraged to make a change in their lives.
The reality is those people most likely felt suffocated by the chastisers, the judgers, the haters – and continually buried their feelings and challenges to please – or not be criticized.
My reason for being here is to help others. Let them know they’re not alone. And if anyone has an issue with that? It’s yours to own.