My Writing as Healing Ministry class ended on Friday. What a whirlwind. I needed the weekend to process it all.

When I need something, I somehow find it for myself or the universe throws it in my path. In this case, I signed up for this class because I missed academia, was interested in getting back into writing, and have been interested in using personal narrative in teaching. It seemed like a good fit. Turns out, the introspection that came with the kind of writing and amount of writing we were doing was just what I was craving. I’m really excited to start my next class and keep moving forward on my path back to grad school.

Here’s the result of a quick freewrite from class so you know what I’ve been up to this past week, when I was so silent on the interweb. It’s just the bare bones, unedited.

This is an old story.

The story is about how unhappy I was – no, not unhappy. Dissatisfied with the direction I had chosen for myself. College. Honors. Grad school. Reverse culture shock. Overloading on classes. Reading. Writing. Writing. Reading. And I changed it all at the last minute. Dropped a class I never really wanted to take and signed up for a class in fused glass. I made other changes too, and it was The. Best. Thing. Ever.

The story tells how I lost myself doing something physical. The hours every day that I spent in the studio. The creative outlet. Being in the zone. My calloused hands.

The course ended. College ended. And my life went on. I told this story to myself, the story of how I realized it was my life and took control of it. I told it to myself a lot. And I told other people about the glass. It still comes up. We eat off of the plates I made that year. People say, “How amazing! … You should get back into that.” I harbor the idea, look up kiln prices, research taking classes again. Talk myself out of it over and over again.

It’s my way out. My dream that I’ve never done. My memory of a time when I made a choice and it was a good one.

What am I telling myself by never doing it? Maybe that it’s an old story, and I need a new one.