But this year is different.
I have been writing for years now but this year is different.
My relationship with writing has always been sacred. It’s my way of processing difficult emotions as it mirrors the thoughts swirling in my mind.
I write about everything — my deepest fears and wildest dreams. I write when I have to make important decisions and I write when I am hurting.
Scribbling stories, penning poetry, curating the plotline, and fabricating characters, to try to capture complex emotions is my refuge from the mundanity, absurdity, or calamities of everyday life.
Since I was a teenager, writing has always been a private, endearing affair between my mind and my journal, an intimate space where no one could trespass. As I grew up, these treasure troves accompanied me on my solo adventures, wherever I went.
But, lately, I have started sharing glimpses of that repository with my near and dear ones. My reasoning was simple — no matter how abysmal the drafts were, they wouldn’t (couldn’t?) judge me because they understood me and why I had put those emotions to paper.
Yet, every time, they read my work, they would encourage me to publish it.
Yet, every time they read my work, they encouraged me to publish it. “Share it with others. People would relate to it,” they would say. “You have access to social media now, unlike in our youth,” or “What do you fear so much?” they would urge.
But I just wouldn’t do it.
I haven’t done it…YET!
I guess I was too afraid to get lost amidst the myriad of talent that already exists.
Here’s a glimpse of my internal dialogue: Welcome to “Self-Doubting Yourself 101!”
- “The world doesn’t need another ‘woke’ person expressing their opinions.”
- “How do I come up with something unique that’s not already been said?”
- “Even if I choose to write about common experiences what if it doesn’t resonate?”
- “It’s one thing if it doesn’t connect, but what if people read it and feel indifferent?”
- “All my pieces are like a part of my soul — What if they don’t accept them with tenderness and warmth?”
- How will I get feedback then? How will I improve?”
- “What if I narrate my stories in front of a live audience for feedback but instead fumble and stumble?”
- “What if I ruin it and make a fool of myself? You guys don’t know me or my history and the context.”
… and the list goes on and on!
This year I am rewiring my belief system to acknowledge that it’s not about me. I am figuring out how to separate the art from me because it’s about the message.
The message is what’s important. I want that message to touch your heart and soothe your core. I want it to make you feel something.
I want you to feel how I feel when I experience good art — when it consumes me and makes me forget about reality. I want to try to make you feel less lonely.
This is me — sharing my art publically, pouring out my soul, completely bare and naked in front of you.
This is me — gathering the courage, despite a hint of fear, ready to forgive myself for any missteps, typos, and imperfections.
I hope you find something to resonate with. Even if just for ten minutes, I hope to make your troubles fade away. I hope we’re able to make love through words today. I hope the world can hold space for one more budding artist today.
