No one tells you how loud fear can be in a quiet room.
You sit down to write and suddenly everything gets noisy.
What if it’s not good enough? What if no one relates?
What if this is the piece that exposes too much?
There are some stories I’ve carried for years. Not because they’re particularly extraordinary, but because they’re… fragile. I know once I say them out loud, they’ll change shape. They’ll become shared. And that scares me.
I’ve written whole essays only to delete them at the last paragraph.
Closed journals mid-sentence. REFUSED TO READ journals because I was afraid of what I would find there. Typed confessions and then backspaced myself out of them.
It’s not that I want to hide. (ok, so maybe yes, I want to run from what I will find there… but let’s focus!). It’s that I don’t always feel ready to be fully seen or even to see myself. Sometimes the truth feels too naked. Too raw. Too soon.
But here’s the thing I keep learning:
Some of the best things I’ve written were written scared.
Not because I had conquered the fear.
But because I decided that fear wasn’t the final editor. Oh! The joy of meeting myself in that vulnerable space was so so special. There’s a special kind of power in writing through the trembling and putting your finger to the page despite the doubt. When I am able to brave the truth, it resonates so deeply… it is not perfect but it so faithfully speaks about the condition of the heart and soul, of the experience of the moment… and there’s no greater gift!
I don’t always publish those pieces. In fact, many of them stay tucked in my folders, or sit quietly in my handwritten journals. It’s kind of like a waiting room of all my little projects waiting for their number to be called. But even as they wait, there’s something comforting about a storehouse of written stories. And I know that when the time is right and when the stars align and the main something shifts, I will be able to share.
In any case, the act of writing is a kind of exhale and so, I continue to be convinced that even if I am afraid, I should write. Slowly I am accepting the journey of then taking the next step and sharing it anyway. Especially sharing those that feel the scariest to look at.Ultimately, for a writer and a storyteller, fear doesn’t mean stop. Sometimes, it just means pay attention and speak in the text.