Ready?

I think I’m ready to write again.

I know I’m supposed to say how wonderful it is to be “Dr. Kayla C.” now, but that shit was traumatic. I finished my dissertation between setbacks and surgeries. Writing- which used to be a place of candor and release- was a place of trauma. I’ve been able to write for work, but I haven’t so much as journaled in 2019, let alone writing for pleasure like I used to be able to. I took a creative writing class while I was healing from the last and largest surgery, because I really want to reclaim this practice. It was nice, but I wasn’t ready. And that was ok. I asked for books instead of meals or flowers because I REFUSED for reading- my real happy place- to be taken away from me. 2018 was a challenge. 2019 was brutal. Journaling felt like dwelling in it, rather than healing. I needed time. I’m pretty forthcoming about my experiences, but I wasn’t at all ready to share my new reality. What did occasionally force their way out were idioms and reflections that I was/am hesitant to call poetry. Outside of my obligatory cliche, angsty teenage poems, I haven’t used this form at all really. But that’s what came. As we come up on 2020, (I think) I’m open to allowing words to flow as they come, even if that means seeing and sharing the ugliness that was. Stay tuned, I guess lol.