Writing Through Life’s Seasons: A Journey of Growth, Challenges, and Belonging

On April 5, 2022, I published my first LinkedIn article. Back then, writing was a way to express creativity—primarily through poetry and art. That year, I wrote 15 articles, shaped by LinkedIn coaching with Christine Till, The Marketing Mentress. In 2023, I managed just two—one touching on Giants and Grapes and another that was meant to be part of a four-part series on codependency recovery, (a series I never completed.) In 2024, I also wrote just two articles—one of which was a creative piece and a written assignment for Workshop 1/52.

Then life happened. I wrote this poem to share the story.

Poem: To Share My Trouble

To share my troubles about this couple I am part of.

We used to be so tight. Now, each night we talk about maybes.

Maybe we will stay together. Maybe we break up. What to do?

Where is the love? Gifted from above. I ask myself.

I realize. In part it’s me.

I am still stuck. In the dark yuck of the past.

Jesus, will You? Show me the way?

Jesus, will You? Set me free?

Of course, My child. Come, sit with Me. On the bench.

Let Me hold you. Let Me sing to you. I will listen.

The Creative rhythm fractured.

I fell ill. Brian and I parted ways. I moved in with one of my daughters. My creative rhythm fractured under the weight of transition, uncertainty, and personal loss.

For months, the words remained unwritten.

Then, in October, Brian and I found our way back to each other. He sold his condo, and we moved in together again. It hasn’t been easy. Ministry challenges weigh on us. People’s opinions cut deep. We both struggle with expectations—his, mine, others. And yet, something inside me whispered: Write anyway.

And so, in 2025, I did. Six articles. Book reviews. A new book is in progress. Weekly expressive art events. A renewed commitment to create, despite the unknowns.

The Stories Behind the Words

Writing isn't a solo pursuit. It weaves itself into daily life, shaped by interruptions, laughter, and moments of belonging. Some of my best reflections arise during overnights with Brian’s grandchildren, Oliver and Kingsley.

We do art. We build Lego towers. We watch YouTube. We snack.

Presence, not productivity, reveals to me where joy is located.

When my grandsons visit, the house fills with even more Lego, art, and games—especially Catan and Perler art. These moments remind me that creativity isn’t just something to teach—it’s something to live.

And it’s not just the children who inspire me. My daughters' creativity amazes me, too. Watching Shanon craft birthday cakes—each one a masterpiece of love and artistry—for family celebrations fills my heart. Creativity is in our DNA, woven into the fabric of our gatherings, big and small.

Then there are the quiet days of deep reflection. The ones where I revisit old articles, noting which ones resonated most. My audience has grown—not just in numbers but in engagement. Likes. Hearts. Thoughtful reactions.

I see how my writing has shifted—becoming fuller, meatier, and more educational. Once, I primarily shared poetry and paintings. Now, I merge those artistic roots with teachings, insights, and lived experiences.

Despite that, I hold space for both.

What Comes Next?

I don’t yet have a full catalogue of my articles—but I will. Next year, I plan to compile a complete list, each title carrying a summary of its impact and lessons learned. But for now, I recognize this journey.

Through illness, loss, and rebuilding, writing has remained a thread connecting past to present. It carried me through grief and into growth. It reminded me that even in uncertainty; I am still a writer.

So I keep showing up.

Article by article. Stroke by stroke. Brick by Lego brick.

Because creativity, much like life, isn’t about perfection—it’s about presence.

And I am here.

Are you?