just Write - Starting my Writing Journey
Sometimes it’s easier to live inside my head than to step into the void that writing takes me to.
Just write.
Two words easier said than done. Two words that eluded me for years.
Why I was Afraid to Write
It feels like a before and after: the years I used to spend every night with my journal, and then the years I didn’t.
I am starting to write again now, but sometimes it’s easier to live inside my head than to step into the void that writing takes me to. When I write, it feels like turning on a faucet and pouring from somewhere deep inside my being.
Writing makes space for the present moment.
Putting words on the page. Letting go of to-do lists and already-been-dones in exchange for paper and pen—or keyboard and screen.
I felt anxious before sitting down to write today.
What Changed for Me
I’m headed to a trade show tomorrow, and I am worked up about the idea of leaving my daughter for the day. She will be in great hands, I know it. But this familiar feeling is something I’ve been experiencing quite a bit postpartum.
Immediately after birth it was bad. Sleep deprivation compounded the depth of my feelings.
One night, brought on by the exhaustion of pumping, breastfeeding, and round-the-clock baby care, I may have hallucinated. I remember the situation, but I cannot for the life of me remember if it was real.
Immediately afterward I couldn’t even tell if it had actually happened.
On a few other occasions I had these preemptive visions in real time. On all occasions, the scenarios were the worst case.
As time has passed, the feelings have lessened, but they are still present.
If I am being honest, the feelings were there before pregnancy. I just don’t remember them taking up this much space in my mind.
My daughter is a part of me, so she now occupies the most space in my mind.
I also recognize that nervousness and anxiety are familial characteristics passed through my maternal lineage.
I hear it in their speech. I see how the tension in their bodies has manifested into chronic pain and illness.
I do not accept this as my fate.
Letting Go of Perfection and Breaking Cycles
I am setting the intention of breaking this cycle. It is something I want to liberate my daughter from.
And although I am setting this bold and brave intention, I cried when my daughter left for the park with the nanny last week for the first time on her own.
I waited until she left to let the tears fall.
I didn’t want her to see me crying.
I didn’t want anyone to see me crying.
I wanted that moment in private so I could hold myself in compassion for what I was experiencing.
A milestone.
My baby growing up.
The anxiety of wondering what if she falls while I’m not there to hold her.
At the same time I found humor in my tears—laughing at myself for my sensitivity.
It makes me think about how much my mother worried about me. And how she turned to prayer as the only tool she knew to help free herself from that worry.
What Writing has Given Me
So what is the answer?
How do we reset ourselves so we do not live in constant connection with the energy of anxiety?
I don’t have the answer.
But I know what I will do.
I will cultivate strength of spirit by processing the energy of anxiety. Each time it appears, I will hold space for it, look at it with curiosity, and let it move through me—through screaming, through movement, but most importantly for me, through writing.
Whatever it takes.
I will meditate deeply.
I will pray.
I will care for my mind, body, and heart.
And I will return to writing.
Because sometimes the only way out of your head…
is through the page.
