Day 4 of NaNoWriMo 2006 and words are beginning to flow after a slow start. I've found the creative process very difficult this time. I seem trapped in an earlier time when my imagination was discouraged, and it's proven very difficult to break that way of thinking. The act of creating a fantasy world in my head seems somehow shameful - somehow not what I should be doing - and yet at the same time I think this is the key to my healing.

My eldest daughter commented yesterday that I don't let go of hurts and words from the past and I know this is true of me. Again, it seems something to be ashamed of, but it's who I am - I have always been sensitive and wounded easily. It is not a good thing in some ways, as it leaves me trapped in hurts that should be healed. But the other side of this gift is empathy, which enables me to reach out to others who are hurting.

As I go through this process - not so much of writing a novel, but of allowing my imagination to be free once more - I find myself talking to my father all the time. When he was alive, he did read some of my short stories, as well as my more juvenile work, and I remember of the short stories in particular, he had some encouraging things to say. He enjoyed them, even when they were about difficult topics. Although I don't think he knew how to encourage a writer, and offset many of the hurts that happened at that time, he was able to appreciate my work, and really that makes a difference. He is my link to the past, and as I talk to him, I feel like he's okay with what I'm trying to do. It makes the process seem much less lonely.

My wife, Cam, has been an amazing support. I find myself thinking that it's too good to be true - that surely she's just being nice, and deep down wishes I'd put away writing and the childish things and do something real that brings an income into the house. The most startling thing for me to realize is that she's not thinking that. That gives me so much more freedom and in turn, responsibility - to tell my stories with authenticity, with honesty and with heart. That seems daunting, and yet I have to remind myself to be in this moment, creating words without censure and letting myself be free of all the restraints that have gradually bound my mind and body over the years.

It is perhaps not surprising that I am in one of the worst flares of my autoimmune challenges that I can remember. I anticipate though that if I have the courage to work through this: to keep writing, creating, and dreaming, I will find a path to healing. Even when I feel afraid, I must continue on this journey. It is my responsibility to myself, and perhaps a legacy for not only my father, but for my wife and children.