Why I Started Writing

I didn’t start writing because I felt inspired or creative.

I started writing because I felt overwhelmed.

Anxiety that wouldn’t quiet down.

Anger that showed up faster than I wanted it to.

A short temper that didn’t feel like the person I wanted to be.

Loneliness. Sadness. Heavy thoughts that seemed to sit in my chest longer than they should.

None of those things feel good to admit.

And they definitely aren’t the parts of myself I’m proud of.

But they are real.

For a long time, those thoughts stayed in my head. And the longer they stayed there, the heavier they became. They would spin around and around until everything felt bigger than it probably was.

So I started writing.

Not because I had something to teach anyone.

But because I needed somewhere to put the thoughts that wouldn’t leave me alone.

Writing became a place where I could empty them out.

A place where they could exist outside of my head for a moment.

Sometimes just seeing the words on a page makes them lose a little bit of their weight.

I also write because I don’t always feel like I have someone to talk to about these things. Not because the people in my life don’t care, but because I don’t want to worry them. When you’re far away from the people who love you, there’s often very little they can actually do to help. And sometimes sharing heavy feelings only makes them feel helpless too.

I don’t want that.

So I write.

Sometimes to understand myself.

Sometimes to calm down.

Sometimes to look back later and see whether something was just a moment… or whether it’s a pattern telling me that something in my life needs to change.

Because the truth is, I don’t want to live my life feeling heavy.

I want to be a lighter person. A calmer one. A kinder one.

The kind of person my children see as a safe place, not a storm.

Writing is part of how I’m trying to get there.

And if any of these thoughts feel familiar to you, then maybe you’re not alone in them either.