Whether I publish or not I can never imagine not writing. I write as a way of thinking. I also do it to start conversations and, in some small way make a difference. I hope my words inspire someone to action. Maybe even make their and our world even greater. I’ve missed writing for me in the recent and short while.
This is because as much as I want to get us all to think in a different way–better–I also do it for me.
I know I’ve written a different version of this post over the years but it is an exercise still worth doing. This is because I’m reminded of what feels me up. I reminded that writing helps me feel, connect with myself. An act of courage.
Writing For Me Is About
In writing I call myself out. I challenge myself to be vulnerable. To a level of honesty about who I am, what I feel and think about something. An exercise of near real-time self-awareness.
Sometimes we avoid ourselves. We fill silence with music and podcasts to drown out our own voices to ourselves. You know when we know we’re not OK but ignore ourselves? Or not want to face the ugly within us? That’s the kind of stuff I’m talking about.
There are also times we fight loving ourselves. When we hold of owning the great stuff about us. You know when we curb joy in us; believing lies that we’re undeserving of it.
Writing, for me, forces me to face the good, bad and ugly within me and without. It is how I make sense of my internal world. That’s how I try to not only understand the world around me but grapple with how real justice looks.
While I’m glad you’ve read this post, this was is just for me.