Writing hurts. rupi kaur wrote a poem from Milk and Honey and it goes,
“the thing about writing is i can’t tell if it’s healing or destroying me”.
This really hit home for me, as I am a journalism major and I run a blog about my personal life. There’s something about writing all your feelings down that makes it real. Like reading it on paper means so much more than just thinking it. Writing can be cruel. I know that from experience, I’ve had two other personal blogs before this one and I had to delete them because reading back it just hurt me. At the time it was so important that I got what I was feeling written down but I have a hard time reading them back.
Maybe that makes me a coward. Running away from my feelings and just deleting them. I should own up to them. But, alas, i’m not that strong yet. One day maybe that will happen, I will be strong enough to face those demons that I am so good at dodging.
That feeling of anxiety creeps up on me out of nowhere and I think I should recognize it. My anxiety comes for a reason, that’s a warning sign. One that I choose to ignore often. But even when it’s going off like a fire alarm in my head I just stuff it down. I’m afraid of what will happen if I recognize it. Will I break? All that i’ve worked for will disappear. It will vanish into nothing like it wasn’t even there. I’ve made strides to control my thoughts but that could all shut down the moment I succumb to anxiety and it’s power.
But to get over anything you have to recognize it and figure it out. My anxiety comes in forms and instead of ignoring them I will look at them.
Here’s to the never ending fight to end anxiety.