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The Dangers of Writing: Why It's Scary and Why You Should Do It Anyway

On journaling, vulnerability, and what I was actually avoiding.

The Dangers of Writing: Why It's Scary and Why You Should Do It Anyway - Kofman Wellness, therapy in New York

Photo by Jan Kahánek on Unsplash.

 

I've been neglecting to write for a really long time. I used excuses like not having enough time, not having an interesting topic at top of mind, or coming off of what feels like a neverending cycle of colds, flus, and viruses this season. The real reason is the fear of what I would uncover about myself through my writing. It became abundantly clear that writing feels so vulnerable to me, that I seemed to have chosen the more "secure" path of not writing. Once I really sat down, I realized how truly afraid I am of writing the wrong thing and it haunting me by being out in the ether. This also helped me realize that it's probably the number one thing I need to start doing in the new year.

 

When I was little, I'm talking middle school, I was a creative writing talent at school. I remember burying myself in stories, dissecting each sentence to find ways of becoming a better storyteller. I remember holding crisp white pages in hand after they shuffled out of the industrial-sized printer at the public library. I can clearly recall the feeling of reading a short story out loud and being applauded by my peers for the exceptional care I took in writing and relaying a killer story. Through my writing, I could show complex emotion. Writing helped me feel free.

 

As a therapist, I often encourage journaling. It's a practice I consider so sacred, and one that I truly know can help people connect with themselves. Throughout the years, I've kept multiple journals. Each one carries its own stories, feelings, and thoughts. There's nothing quite like the feeling of clarity settling in after journaling (sometimes furiously) and truly embracing the good, the bad, and the ugly through words on paper. It's an act of self-care like no other and helps me feel so much more aligned once complete.

 

It's very easy for time to slip by when we're inundated with never-ending to-do lists, activities to drive the kids to, meals to make, notes to finish, and let's not forget social calendars to manage and family obligations to fulfill. At the end of the day, it's tempting to fall into doom scrolling instead of reflecting or dreaming with pen and paper (or fingertips and screen). We are perpetually overstimulated, which makes us less connected with one another.

 

I recently read an interesting passage in one of the best books I have leafed through and read in a long time, called The Guide to Becoming Alive by Richard Christiansen. He discusses a possible theory for why people are so disconnected from each other, describing a Western culture that wants to fix things alone, that connects digitally, that isolates in therapy and digs up trauma in a room by itself, that journals and hopes no one reads it. A universe built on the proliferation of self. He closes with a line from Robin Wall Kimmerer: all flourishing is mutual.

 

I think parts of that are certainly true, and it largely has to do with our fear of being judged or disappointed. Our fear of not being liked gets in the way of our ability to create and connect. It's the reason why writing makes us feel so vulnerable. While I deeply value writing, I sometimes forget how truly powerful it is.

 

And so, my new year's resolution is to find more pockets of time to write without the pressure of likes, or follows, or shares, but rather, to connect with myself. In doing so, my hope is to encourage someone else to connect with themselves too. After all, I know writing can set you free, too, and maybe through writing we can truly flourish.

 

xx, Yana

 

This piece was originally published in Little Notes from Your Therapist.

 

If something here landed and you would like to talk it through, you can book a short complimentary consultation or send an inquiry. Sessions are by secure video anywhere in New York State.

 

This post is written for educational purposes and is not medical or mental health advice, nor a substitute for care from a licensed provider. Reading it does not create a therapist-client relationship. If you are in crisis or need urgent support, call or text 988 in the United States, or call 911.

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