Vulnerability

Raw Post Ahead

For the past few months I’ve been struggling a lot with feelings of inadequacy. I feel like I just don’t measure up, like I’m mostly a disappointment to those around me and actually many times I wonder if those closest to me even like me.

And writing a blog when I feel this way? Yuck.

I mean, there’s {almost} nothing worse than reading post after post of an insecure individual, fishing for compliments and for others to validate them. In fact the only reason I am up to writing today is because finally I feel a bit better, as if things may be looking up for me. Often, when I feel this way I begin to drift away on my latest social media platform of choice, this time it being WordPress. I don’t want to be that whiny blog no one reads so I instinctively want to fade out before my followers do. I feel that familiar longing to do my knee-jerk reaction and “delete the account”…to crawl back deeper into my hole.

Being forgotten is often less painful than being noticed for the wrong reasons.

This blog hasn’t been super rewarding for me. As of now, I have a handful of people who actually read what I write. Mostly strangers.

I began this blog after having a dream that awakened a desire in me to write again. Writing for me has been therapeutic for as far back as I can remember. It’s a balm on my wounds. It takes the deepest pain, the most utter confusion, the darkest fear, the greatest joy and put words to it all. Suddenly that painful, dark thought doesn’t seem so frightening anymore when it’s been put into language. It’s been named and therefore, it can be understood.

There is nothing as beautiful as when emotion is transformed into words that make sense of it all. Make it musical and even more dimension is added; you can almost touch it. Poetry is the combination of our thoughts and feelings, finally released in a rhythmic form that expresses the inexpressible; a miracle that hits the page.

I never intended to write for fame or to be noticed.

I never started so that I could become the next top blog or because I expected my writing to make me an overnight millionare.

I started so that I could practice and improve my skills as a writer while sharing my unique story and lessons I’ve learnt along the way. I wrote to share my faith, to encourage, and, quite honestly, to write about some things that I couldn’t dare say out loud. Using my blog in this latter way has caused unintended conflict and I’ve had to delete a couple of posts in the past that brought pain to certain people in my life (one particular post was taken personally when it was addressing how tired I was of gossip). Since that particular post was written, I’ve felt an unaddressed strain in a couple relationships which resulted in me losing that first zeal I had for writing. No post is worth losing relationships over, no matter how well-meaning it is.

And on that point lies the reason why I feel like quitting: If I, a writer, can’t clearly get my point across and am so misunderstood, then maybe I’m not such a good writer after all.

Many times I approach the keyboard, clicking out my heart-felt words…

Only to delete.

Out of fear. Who will I hurt this time? Who will read into my intentions wrongly this time? Do I really come across that harsh? Am I that oblivious to my actions? Am I completely lacking self-awareness? Oh, when did these relationships become so painful, so delicately breakable that I feel like tucking myself into a corner and giving up? When did walking on egg-shells become a daily practice for me?

However I look at this though, no matter what lens I use, I always know that there is someone else out there who knows exactly what I’m feeling. They understand my words perfectly. And so I continue to write:

For it’s the only way I know how to navigate my feelings.

It’s the only way I know to ease my troubled thoughts.

I share,

Because I am not alone.

Somewhere out there is another soul:

Who feels forgotten and alone,

Who is painfully insecure,

Whose blog makes the ‘Sega Dreamcast’ look like a success…

And for some reason, that’s enough to keep me hammering on these keys, knowing that persistence may be the only thing I have left.

I keep writing because of how it helps me.

I keep running, because it teaches me endurance.

I keep working because the results are rewarding.

I keep loving because real love never fails.

I keep on giving, because one day I’ll see the fruit.

I keep learning Spanish because it’s been my dream since I was a little girl to speak it.

I keep praying because there’s a lot of impossible things that I am still waiting for.

I may be called a lot of things… but least they can’t call me a quitter.