I know we’ve had our differences, and you’ve held me back for so long. But I want to try and understand you, to see where you’re coming from. I know you’re here for a reason, and I’m ready to listen.
I remember the first time I felt the sting of betrayal when my personal writings were violated as a child. My parents, who were supposed to be my protectors, read my journal without my consent. The friends I trusted with my poetry shared my words without my permission, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable. And when I poured my heart out to lovers, my words were sometimes used against me, twisting my vulnerabilities into weapons.
Because of these experiences, I shut down. I locked away my words, my poetry, and a part of myself. I lost my voice, and with it, a piece of my identity. I became afraid to share, to express, to let my true self be seen.
But even in the silence, there was a yearning. I wanted to be heard, truly heard. I wanted to be understood, to connect with others through the power of words. I wanted to heal, both myself and others, through the art of writing.
So, here I am, facing you, Fear of Writing. Thank you for being here, for trying to protect me from further pain. But it’s time to let go of the past and embrace the healing power of words. It won’t be easy, and I know there will be moments when I want to retreat again. Yet, I am committed to showing up, to putting pen to paper, to releasing the words that have been locked away for so long.
Together, we can rewrite our story. We can turn pain into poetry and use our words to bring light into the darkness. It won’t always be easy, but it will be worth it. So, let’s make a deal — I’ll keep showing up, and you can come along for the ride. We’ll face the fears together, and maybe, just maybe, we’ll discover the beauty that lies on the other side.
Thank you for your presence, and for reminding me of the importance of what I have to say.
With courage and compassion,
Me