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Speaking of Writing

Mar 18, 2024
2 min read

I'm a writer. You might know this. You might know me because of this. You might know it as a defining feature of my personality. Or maybe, if you've come across me more recently from favorites posts, you might have noticed me vaguely mentioning writing here and there. I used to share things about writing and my process quite often. I've always craved vulnerability and authenticity, and I felt my honesty about my less than traditional approach might be valuable to some people.


Over the last year or so, something changed. I'm naturally introverted, but I found myself drawing inwards even more than usual. When I was uninspired, which was most of the time, I didn't want to think or talk about writing much. And when I was inspired, I felt like I wanted to keep that mostly to myself. I didn't want to... jinx it? To seem overly confident in my direction. It was tempting fate.


Last summer brought a lot of anxiety and uncertainty to the forefront of my mind once again. Things I had come to rely on were shifting like an earthquake. This happens. Life is full of change and uncertainty. I knew that repressing my emotions had never served me particularly well, but I couldn't reach down into the depths of my feelings and pull out words anymore. I was too afraid of what would happen if I let myself feel too much.


And then, something strange happened. I started expressing myself in a different way than usual. Writing poetry. For the first time in about twenty years, poetry became my main form of expression. And I was putting into words things that I was too afraid to speak. Emotions that were intense and complex with words that were simple and personal. It didn't want to come through me in any other way.


In time, this creative flow spread back into storytelling. I've made progress with some stories that hadn't gotten my focus in years. And I'm loving my creative process. My universe. My heart.


I'm hesitant to start talking about writing again. Scared it will disappear. Wanting to keep it to myself. But I feel like I can finally speak again. Finally breathe again. Even if the emotions involved are often surging through me in sobs, I must allow myself to feel.

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