I had always seen myself as the methodical, cold, analytical type who viewed language as an necessary but inefficient tool for communication. So it surprised me and many others when I found that sometimes, I actually enjoyed writing, and wasn’t abhorrent at it either.
For me, how much I choose to write is a reflection of my level of self-awareness and self-confidence. Before starting this “blog” on Medium, I had never written anything remotely personal on the internet that’s available publicly. I was scared of judgement from those around me.
What if when my friends found out what I truly felt or thought, they stopped talking to me?
My writing skills aren’t that great. Who am I to start a personal blog hoping people will read it?
I’m a boring person, I have nothing interesting to write.
All of these doubts reflected how much I allowed others to define my personal well being. Part of me knew that I wanted to write, that it would be a way to self-reflect and come to terms with myself. The fear kept me back.
It wasn’t until I brought myself to write my first post that I felt the catharsis of writing. Over time, I’ve come to understand that the purpose of writing is not to gather praise, make money, or show off, but to fulfill the human desire for psychological freedom.
Even if no one reads my posts, the simple act of personal writing forces me to be vulnerable with the “audience.” Writing allows me to shake off the chains of social expectations, peer pressure, and external validation. It empowers me to bare myself naked to the world, shameless in my convictions, values, and experiences.
I won’t lie and say that I’m not affected by what others think of me. It’s a completely natural instinct that has evolved over millions of years. Those doubts and fears will pop up from time to time.
However, when given the choice to imprison myself through fear or to express myself through writing, I will always choose to write.