My mom really wanted me attend an art school. My art isn't really that good and not satisfying the way writing is for me. I think that was her dream so I wasn't all that excited to pursue that. I went to school for Child Development instead. I wound up super frustrated in my English 101 class. The one paper I did really well and got an easy A on was a rather snarky paper about homework frustration.
Time went on from there and I was always wanting to write but life and raising kids came first. Now that I'm finally writing, I have all the writerly feelings of not being good enough. I lost some of what I was able to do as a teen and had to relearn it. But I do enjoy it. Writing actually settles down my depressive moods and anxiety. So for me it has become good therapy when it's just me and my stories. When I let it out into the world though all that changes.

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