Writing is what I do. In many ways, it’s a fundamental part of who I am – it’s crucial to my mental health, problem – solving and often is my preferred method of communication generally. And I can write about just about anything.
The thing is, when the same thing is both your self – expression and your coping mechanism, there’s always the potential for anxiety. Somebody might read it and not like it, which means they don’t like me. And here’s a piece of paper with me trapped in it and everybody can read it forever and oh my word, what was I thinking putting that down on paper? (Also known as Writer’s Block.)
Add to that the fact that I am trying too hard with my editing, and right now the whole writing thing feels very … conflicted. And people can say write it and then destroy it, but somehow I feel like I am on a journey and I want a record of it. But I am too scared to write it down. Too scared to stare at the computer and let my thoughts sing out my fingertips.
So I am writing in small, stolen moments. In the car waiting to pick up Little Person. While the bath is running, or the food is cooking. Little moments sprinkled through the day.
Because sometimes, we can turn the normal everyday bits of our lives into Big Things. And from Big it is only a small step to Scary. I think I have allowed the writing to be a big thing, and so now I am turning it into a little thing. And then I can learn to love it again.
And maybe, somehow I can learn not to be afraid of other things too.