Writing

I follow the blog of a friend of a friend whose husband passed away unexpectedly right before Christmas. She is a writer, and her posts are beautiful. She has written practically every day since a week after her husband passed away. Faithfully. Honestly. Vulnerably opening up her heart to the world and allowing us to walk through the grieving process with her. Sometimes she shares deep, heart-wrenching feelings or memories. Sometimes she shares amusing stories about her sons. Other times she writes nothing except a quote from someone else.

I've heard that writing is healing. That when people are in pain, they can't help but put their thoughts and emotions down on paper (or computer screen as the case may be). I assume this is true based on the vast array of people who blog and the number of writers who have published their pain.

Most of the time when I sit down to write, my mind goes blank.  

I'm still trying to figure out what that says about me.