In the era I grew up in, passion was not part of language. More of a 1600s Puritan attitude about the topic. As an adult, I was expected to become a wife and a mother. Nothing more, nothing less. And if I did those things well, I was supposed to be fulfilled.
This verbally repeated expectation came from my parents in particular, and from society in general. No one asked what moved me, what stayed in my thoughts late at night, or what I felt drawn toward without obligation.
A personal passion? The idea of it was not even in my vocabulary. It was not something I gave any particular thought to or even knew of its existence. So, I never searched for passion. It wasn’t hidden from me. It simply was not an acceptable topic for a proper young lady.
A Simple Question That Wasn’t Simple at All
Recently, someone asked me a seemingly simple question: What is your passion? Then they said, “When you have an answer, write it down and share it.”
I could not give them an immediate answer. I could not give them any “passion” answer at all.
The absence of an answer unsettled me more than I expected. I wasn’t stumped because I had too many interests. I was disheartened because I could not pinpoint one single thing I would call a passion.
Looking for Something I Couldn’t Name
I can tell you that question caused me a great deal of consternation. It led to deep thought and a lot of digging through my memory bank.
In the dictionary, I looked up Passion, hoping the definitions would spark the answer, any answer, to that question. I needed to find a grain of truth that pertained to me, and deeply.
Searching for an Answer
In my search for answers to the myriad of questions I had about passion, I listened to other people talk about their passions. I read articles and did online searches. I consulted the dictionary to better understand the meaning of the word passion. Still, I couldn’t come up with an answer that fit me.
Then, I had a crazy thought: I should consult AI to help me figure it out. I asked artificial intelligence to review several years of my writing. Unexpectedly, AI gave me an answer I hadn’t anticipated. It showed me a pattern in my writing. One I had never consciously noticed.
The Pattern I Had Not Seen
AI reviewed years of my writing. It showed me a pattern. A pattern I had not consciously recognized about my writing.
Nearly everything I write points to one prevailing theme: Preparing people to handle the difficult parts of life before they are forced into them.
Helping people emotionally survive life’s hardest experiences.
The more I thought about it, and the more closely I studied my own work, the more I could see that the assessment was accurate. I finally understood why I keep writing these things, and why you need to hear them.
To reduce suffering before it arrives, not comfort people only after it overwhelms them, is why I write about hard-life topics.
Why I Write About Difficult Things
I write these articles in the expectation that people will suffer less, will become more prepared, and will be more confident in handling mishaps during overwhelming life events, including:
People avoid topics like:
- Grief
- Mortality
- Emotional overwhelm
- Family responsibility
- Being misunderstood
But avoidance creates confusion at the worst possible time. Preparation creates steadiness. If someone understands beforehand what they may face, the experience is still painful, but not chaotic.
That matters! A lot! It is the difference between overwhelming panic and controlled action, regardless of the accompanying emotions.
Writing With Prepared Protection in Mind
After my sister and her daughter died two weeks to the day and the hour apart from each other, I wrote a page about bereavement. It wasn’t casual information. Not as a theory! As protection!
I wanted families to have conversations before they were forced into them by shock. To reduce confusion, doubt, and regret during moments when clear thinking becomes almost impossible.
No one had taught me how to face life’s hardest moments.
Not Parents.
Not school.
Not church.
Not tradition.
Preparing for the inevitable writing. It is writing to protect your loved ones. I try to help people see the importance of addressing the hardest conversations before it is too late. Helping them prepare to prevent unnecessary pain through awareness and understanding.
I have lived a long time, and I have had to deal with some very difficult situations through that journey. Unfortunately, I have had to learn how to deal with every emotional, physical, and psychological hard-knock aspect of life by myself. Neither school nor church explains detailed ways to deal with and prepare for traumatic, soul-wrenching events.
Meaning, mortality, and responsibility
As much as we can, we want to protect our loved ones from pain, sorrow, worry, and fear. Once we get brave and open the talk with family (and friends) about the debt that all mankind pays, (mortality), we begin to move the elephant out to the room.
There are innumerable sources for the required legal documents. Talking about what each one of you would like at the end reduces stress, confusion, and doubt. Preplanning will become easier. And there are massive amounts of information on great health-enhancing products.
It simply comes down to this fact: we want our loved ones around as long as possible and as well protected and prepared for whatever life can throw at them.
Giving Voice to Difficult Conversations
The articles I choose to write are not about blogging for its own sake, marketing, or promoting products. They are about bringing attention to topics that are often uncomfortable, difficult, or quickly avoided, but necessary to talk about. I write to hopefully encourage you to bravely voice the hard, painful issues in a calm, kind, and loving way to help them. And I write them from personal lessons I learned the hard way and alone.
To avoid talking about the hard topics of life is a detrimental silence to you and your loved ones. Your voice should be the one voice amongst your loved ones to speak up, to open the discussion that needs attention.
The quotes below reinforce this idea.
As Malala Yousafzai said, “When the whole world is silent, even one voice becomes powerful.”
Barack Obama echoed a similar idea when he said, “One voice can change a room, and if it can change a nation, it can change the world.”
Writing With Purpose, Not Expectations
I don’t expect the articles I write to become world-famous. Nor do I write them to shout, “This is my passion!” Nonetheless, if something I write helps even one person open a conversation about a hard topic, then I consider that a success.
I write to help people protect themselves by preparing, guiding, and emotionally safeguarding themselves so they suffer less. Especially during overwhelming life events.
Sometimes understanding alone relieves suffering.
Not fixing. Not curing, or understanding.
I also try to offer insights I have learned from my own difficult situations. And to help people realize the importance of caring for their health, so they can remain present and well for the people who love them.
Awareness as a Form of Care
I also wrote an article about the potential dangers of drinking water from plastic bottles. Plastic is a petroleum-based product, and while plastic bottles are convenient and widely available, exposure to sunlight can cause a chemical breakdown. This can release microscopic plastic particles into the water we drink.
I did not write that article to attack an industry. I wrote it to raise awareness; to help people understand risks that are often overlooked. At its core, it is another form of protective writing. It speaks to how fragile life can be, and how things we assume are safe may carry hidden consequences.
Writing from Lived Experience
I wrote about empathy and being an empath; simply, I am one. A significant portion of the population feels emotions deeply and absorbs energy and emotion that is not always their own. That page was not written from an academic standpoint. I wrote it to validate people who often feel misunderstood, whose emotions rise unexpectedly and intensely. I wanted them to feel seen and less alone.
Finally Understanding My Passion
For most of my life, I did not have a passion because I did not know what it was. The truth is now crystal clear. I have a direction shaped by hardship before I had a word to describe it.
My experiences quietly formed a purpose, ergo a passion:
I want to help people feel more prepared, less isolated, and emotionally steadier when life becomes overwhelming.
Passion, for me, is not excitement. It is a responsibility felt gently. A deep-seated need to pass on to others how I learned to deal with adversity.
If my writings provide clarity, comfort, or preparedness before someone faces a very difficult season, then they have done exactly what my writings were meant to do.
Conclusion
I have lived a long time, and I have had to deal with some very difficult situations through that journey. Unfortunately, I had to learn how to cope with every emotional aspect of life’s hardships on my own.
For most of my life, I did not have a well-defined passion because I did not know a word for it. I now understand that the painful, heart-crushing hardships I endured for most of my life have formed my passion, not as a title or a role, but as a purpose.
I write to help people feel less alone, more prepared, and more emotionally safeguarded when life becomes overwhelming. If my words can offer even a small measure of clarity, comfort, or protection to someone facing a difficult phase, then I am gratified my writing has done what it was meant to do.