I spent my career on others' writing and neglected my own - how do I grieve that?

You spent your working life making other people's words shine, and your own voice sat in a drawer gathering dust. The grief you feel is honest. You gave your gift to everyone but yourself. Let yourself feel the loss of that plainly. Something real was set aside, again and again, and it deserves to be mourned. But be careful before you call it gone. The voice you kept postponing did not die. It waited. Every year you spent sharpening other people's writing, you were also sharpening your own instrument, whether or not you used it. The editor and the writer were never truly separate. One was simply on the clock. So stop waiting for the perfect, uninterrupted season to begin. It will not come. Write one true page this week, messy, small, yours. You are not too late, and you are not out of practice in the ways that matter. Grieve the years you set your voice aside, and then, gently, pick it back up. It has been waiting for you.