Writing Saved Me. But Not in the Way You Think

What I discovered about becoming a writer that no therapist, friend, or job could ever give

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For 21 days, I’m writing from the inside out, to see what surfaces when I let go of trying to say the “right” thing.

I didn’t write for an audience. I wrote to stay sane. I honestly thought no one would ever read it.

But they did.

There have been several moments when I’ve feared I've said too much online and questioned, “Is this really what I want to write about?”

But writing writes you.

And at a time when I’d lost everything, during Covid, when the world was such a mess, I had to ask, “Does it even matter?”

In the scale of the universe, I’m just the same as one tiny ant.

Your truth will out you

I don’t remember the moment I first picked up a pen and wrote a post or an article. I know I wrote many and threw them away, thinking, “Who’d want to read that?”

But I was excited to become a blogger. So I created a WordPress blog from scratch and wrote about the self-sufficient life I was building. The irony was that, in writing about it, I exposed how much I hated my choices.