Writing, Being Seen, and Reclaiming What's Mine

"What happens when people open their hearts? They get better."

This time last year, I was overwhelmed with dark thoughts and crippled with anxiety.

Then I stopped working and I found myself with an abundance of free time.

I panicked. Everything felt heavier. Until it didn't.

Eventually, I became a mostly functioning person with the time, and more importantly, the energy to do things.

I decided I would begin a journey of exploring and experimenting with whatever I wanted.

I've always wanted to be a creative person, a writer, an artist of some kind, a skilled creator.

All my life I've been enamored with the ways writers wield words. The power of language.

When I was younger, filled with thoughts and feelings I wasn't equipped to deal with or knew how to talk about, I would write. In secret.

Scribbling away in notebooks.

Only to then tear out the pages.

Rip. them. into. tiny. pieces.

And sprinkle them into the trash can.

Leaving no trace of my words behind.

I was terrified of anyone reading what I wrote.

I wanted so badly to be seen, but I was terrified of actually being seen.

I felt embarrassed and I didn't want my thoughts and feelings exposed or my writing judged.

I didn't think I was good enough.

This prevented me from truly exploring writing, committing to make it a consistent habit, and especially from sharing it.

But I don't want fear to paralyze me anymore.

I can't sit around waiting to be claimed.

Nobody is going to come looking for me and give me permission to write, tell me I'm good enough, or crown me a "writer."

The words will never claim me, I must claim them.

So this is me committing. To writing, being seen and reclaiming what's mine.