Today, somebody questioned my story-telling skills.
Just one person or possibly two.
And it broke me.
And it made me question why I blog and if there is any point continuing with this journey. Who am I trying to kid?
I am not very good at much but in the last few years I have started to have faith that I can write and tell a good tale.
I blogged first of all when I was going slowly insane and just wanted to use it to get those feelings out there. They were overwhelming. I could not cope.
That blog lasted a matter of weeks.
Then my late Mum told me to write. She knew it was what I was about. Deep down, at my very core. I suspect she knew she was dying and that she needed to make me see sense. So another blog was born. I did not put my name to it but people commented and I recognised my feelings were not that strange after all.
I also found out that by blogging all my car crashes in life I could help others. That meant a lot.
So here is another car crash. I can’t actually write.
But somewhere deep inside is a voice that want to roar like Katy Perry and says actually I am a bloody good story-teller.
I don’t make this up. I have awards don’t you know?
A best-selling novelist told me I made her cry and that is unusual so I should not give up writing.
The woman who writes for EastEnders told me me I have real talent.
Real women every day comment and say I make a difference. I have no idea why or how really but I am very glad I do.
Today I have struggled. Tomorrow you will hear me ROAR!
It isn’t time to give up, is it?