Writing,,,,again?

As I sit on my slightly lopsided bed, I began thinking what a friend asked me a few days ago whose name is withheld to protect the innocent. He asked me what is my passion. My passion.....I really hadn't thought about it for awhile since life has been throwing me a few curve balls the past few years. I loved working with the mentally disabled, low income branch of our population. I found out I was pretty good at it from having been there myself and well, am back there again. After a few moments of silence, my friend, whose patience level with me can be short, said your passion is writing. I looked at my phone which he had called me on like I could picture him in it. I am so glad we did not Skype the call because I turned all shades of white to bright red which really could have been the flu shot I had gotten a few hours earlier but will never know.

I have never claimed to be a writer. Most English majors could find fault the way I write. I am not "grammatically correct" nor am I often linear in my thoughts. I write like I talk. Sometimes short sentences and sometime long rambling tirades of crap. I was forced into writing by another friend sick of my story telling and basically told me to write these stories down. After a few stories and some good feedback from friends, I thought maybe I could write. For a year or so I wrote a lot of short stories about my life, some sad but many funny. I got a lot of good feedback and even was published once. Then it all stopped. Now that I think about it not only did the writing stop but so did my love of anything. I became more depressed, angry, sad, frustrated and useless. I lost my sense of humor and dwelled on the old saying "oh woe  is me"  Ok, some of my friend may say I was always like that, but they lie. Ok, they did not lie because there are periods of time I had been like that but I was most upset on losing my sense of humor.

My humor is, shall I say, a little off the wall. I was brought up in a family that was a lot off the wall and my humor came from observing things and letting my mouth open and say whatever came out. I liked my sense of humor. My sense of humor kept the depression at bay. When I felt I lost it, the depression came back in full force. I succumbed to the depression and allowed myself to wallow in doubt, fear, and anger and as we all know, that is not a way to live.

Is writing my passion? Gee, hell if I know. Right now, I  feel more in charge than I have in a long time. Will I continue to write stories of my life. Again, I am not sure but if it makes me feel like I do this moment, it would be a good choice.

So thank you Jorge ( shoot, sorry kiddo) for the call and the talk. Writing this short bit is making my day feel better. Well it was either the writing or the darn good oatmeal I made with my coffee that is keeping a smile on my face. So I guess my question is.....Should I continue to write or not. Truth is, I just want to see who answers the question.  My answer is yes, do I hear another?