I’ve always loved to write. My father was a journalist, and it filled me with awe and excitement to pick him up after work and quietly sneak into his office, where creatives typed away in focused rhythm.

As a child, I wrote boxes full of letters to my parents (I still do, occasionally). The only exam at school I wasn’t afraid of was the essay - and even then, my biggest challenge (then and now) was the limited word count!

When I write, I write abundantly. It flows and pours out of me. When I write, I swim in an ocean of enough-ness - and this, too, is why I write.

It’s also why I began writing even more deeply a few years ago, as I surfed the final wave of my recovery from disordered eating.

Yes, it feels true to say that writing has healed me - and is still healing me, day by day.

When I write, I am so deeply in touch with my body. I ask her: What do you need me to write?