Sarah Speaks It

Disclaimer: this is not going to be an easy post to read and it was harder to live and write. It is, however, a step towards me healing. On Tuesday afternoon, I received  a call from my mother. I instinctively knew something was wrong. I was with a customer, but called her back as soon as I could. My father had been taken to the emergency room. My heart dropped. In February, my dad revealed that he had been diagnosed with bladder cancer. At the time, he said he had 3-6 months. This was bad, but he sought no treatment and basically shut us out. So we checked on him, we tried to change his mind, we cherished the times we spent together. I finally got him to agree to go the hospital, but when I showed up he bailed on me. This was now October.  I had honestly given up. You can't help a person who doesn't want to be helped right? And then on November 10th my phone rings. And little did I know, my world was about to be changed. I get to the hospital and I'm the first of m

So I've been encouraged to start writing again. For some reason, it just seems so hard. It like all of these emotions are cascading out of me and I'm seriously not ok with it. Not yet.  I've never run from my emotions, but I feel like if I face them now I may just crumble. There is simply too much going on for me to crumble. Interesting enough, writing will also be very healing for me.  It's how I remain strong without boiling over. And so, I'm going to give it a go. The healing has to start somewhere.