Writing can be scary. That is probably a bit hypocritical of me to say since I try to promote it so much for personal relaxation and freedom of expression. But honestly…
I’ve been having a major block lately. A major turn-off to my daily journaling and a strong heaving wave of dread sweeps over me if I even begin to ponder all of the different things I should or could write about. It is endless yet empty. And so the noose of procrastination bears heavy, looming in the background.
I have put an awful lot of pressure on myself to write pieces that tug at emotions or resonate with the reader. But I really haven’t written just for the sake of it without analysing, without judging, without expectations in a very long time.
I have been doing more and more, yet feeling less and less connected to my words. I feel strange and detached, as if I am not writing my words at all. They feel forced and hinged and stuck.
I am wondering if anyone else feels like this. The more I write. The bigger the audience. The greater the feedback.
The more the enormity of pressure mounts and crushes my voice. My words are blurred in between opinions, and shared, and spread and exposed. And I feel I no longer own them. They are no longer mine. And I cannot take them back.
Fear is paralysing. And words don’t flow when we are stagnant. They need light. They need bravery. They need acceptance. Someday my words will be forgotten. And I will disappear. And I will no longer have a voice.
So while I am here I will speak.
PS: I was reading a piece by lexicographer, Susie Dent, last night and she explained that journal derives from the Latin for ‘shine’… which I think is a sign if I’ve ever seen one.
Quote by Fiona Brennan “What people think or do not think of you is quite frankly none of your business.”