I guess since I’m not sleeping (even though I should be), I might as well write. Good timing anyway. Everyone else is asleep.
I’ve been deciding for hours….weeks…. ok, months on a topic. I think I got it: fear.
A lot of times I am busy with community organizing or supporting friends or campaigning (running for County Commissioner) so I don’t write. Nobody is THAT busy though. Writing sometimes invokes anxiety because when you write, you have to reflect. What if I’m not where I think I should be? What if I’ve not been living up to my potential as much as I think I have? Then there is this one:
What if nobody cares about what I’m saying…
That’s probably the real fear. Pouring your heart into writing a poignant piece and come to find out absolutely nobody cares about what you are saying. That’s fair. I mean, who wants to be rejected like that?
Consider this with me though. What if writing is for your own healing? What if it was a device to get to know yourself and others just so happened to be blessed by your words? Or not. Maybe nobody cares. That’s a real possibility. But your words don’t mean any less because they are yours. They were always meant to help you first. To give YOU a voice first. If you are like me, you spend a lot of time trying to figure out how to make the existence of others better, but not much time on your own existence. What I’m suggesting, that my words are for my benefit primarily and other secondarily, goes against my nature. Or is it my socialisation? Whatever the case, if I never think anything is else is mine, truly I need to understand that my words are.
I should probably get some sleep since I have to be up in 6 hours. I’ll try my #ReclaimTheWords again later. It’s relaxing when you don’t force yourself to be in a box. Just let the words flow to your fingers. I think I could get used to this self-comfort via writing. I’m feeling extra peaceful.