Why do I write?

bylistenlinda

144 followers

4 days ago

Life has a funny way of pulling you back to your purpose.
I could write an entire book about my why, but here is the truth:
Writing is not an obsession.
It is a passion with a purpose — a calling that refuses to be ignored.

When I write, something inside me untangles.
Words spill out in their own rhythm, shaping a melody that vibrates through me, rewiring the places I didn’t even realize were aching. It is as if the page becomes a mirror, a balm, a bridge back to myself.

No, I am not broken.
But as I move through life, there are choices I make that aren’t always in alignment with the deepest version of me — the I Am that lives beneath everything. And even the strongest parts of me can fissure. Those fissures deserve care, attention, and repair.
Writing is the way I mend.
Writing is the way I return.

I write chaotic love stories — stories that have stretched my creativity far beyond what I ever imagined I was capable of. But chaotic love stories, for me, aren’t just fiction. I call them fiction because I stretch the truth, bend the rules, and color beyond the edges… but the heart of every story I write is real.

These pages come from the past I lived, the present I’m navigating, and—if I’m honest—the future I hope I’ve outgrown.

I write because I need to release what happened to me — the experiences that shaped me, the connections that wounded me, the choices that left quiet scars I didn’t understand until much later. I’ve carried traumas that weren’t always loud or obvious — traumas born from harm, yes, but also from silence, pressure, shame, and expectations that never belonged to me.

I write because I’ve learned that creativity is medicine.
The feminine — intuitive, sensual, expressive — has healed wounds the masculine, logical, survival-driven side of me could not reach. Writing lets me breathe again.
Writing lets me feel again.
Writing brings me home to myself.

I write because there was a pain in me for so long that I couldn’t trace to its roots. It lived in my body, my relationships, my patterns, and even in my quietest moments. Writing revealed its source — and revealed the path forward.

I write because I am done playing the victim in stories I never authored.
I am ready to explore the truth about myself — a truth that is bold, layered, and beautifully contradictory:

I am dual.
I am both light and dark.
I am gentle and fierce.
Soft and unapologetic.
Healer and chaos.

These dualities exist in everyone, but many of us were taught to shrink into a single role — the “good girl,” the polite one, the quiet one, the caretaker. Those expectations suffocated the powerful, intuitive woman I was meant to become. They dimmed my fire. They stole my voice.

So I write to reclaim her.
I write to let her speak freely.
I write to honor the pieces of me that were judged, punished, dismissed, or forced into hiding.

This blog — this journey — isn’t about perfection.
It’s about permission.

Permission to feel.
Permission to remember.
Permission to release.
Permission to rise — as Linda and as Lori Lynn, as the healer and the storyteller, as softness and fire in the same breath.

This is why I write.

Because every page I release becomes a piece of me reborn.