My Reasons for Writing

I’ve always been a writer. It's something that has always been a part of me.

Whether it was as a student in the classroom, typing my journals on my first laptop, writing down quotes I loved from books, writing notes to people I care about, knocking out long research papers for school in record time or getting reminded by teachers, “Cassie, that means one paragraph, not two pages,” I’ve always loved writing. As an introvert, writing is safe. I can convey my thoughts without having to be face to face with another human being. As a perfectionist, I can write everything out, and then reread and revise it repeatedly until it is deemed ‘good enough’ to share with others. If it never is, it can sit in a dusty notebook or inside my computer, safe from ridicule.

As a person who struggles with self confidence, I have a hard time organizing my thoughts in my head quickly enough to share them aloud in a way that is good enough or eloquent enough (by my high standards anyway). However, when I write them and have time to reflect and think about what I want to say, my words and thoughts intertwine into something meaningful and many times, beautiful, whether I mean them to or not. I would much rather write a ten page paper on any subject, personal or academic, than have to have an interview or conversation about it. That’s just who I am, and who I’ve always been.

In the way that photographs are meaningful to some people, my writing represents the same for me. Journals from a certain time period are in a way, photographs. Photographs of my thoughts, feelings and mindset at that time. I’m constantly surprised when I go back through my journals at the things I have forgotten or feelings that I have no recollection of feeling. My writing is like a time machine into my own brain, a place that is equal parts terrifying and deeply interesting to me.

The above quote has always spoken to me. When I reflected on it, I connected this directly with my writing. After many years of going through the same writing cycles, going through spurts of constant writing and then not picking it up for months at a time, I realized several things.

One of my biggest fears, is forgetting. Forgetting events, interactions, feelings, and thoughts. Forgetting what certain interactions felt like or the intense feelings of an event or time in my life. In a previous post, I talked about my One Word Resolution for 2016, seek. This word was conceived from my deep seated anxiety and fear that I had forgotten something important. Looking back over the times in my life where I’ve done a lot of writing, I was going through things that I didn’t want to forget.

The times that I have written the most in my life are at times of crisis. I have a profound fear of forgetting the bad or scary things that have happened in my life. I feel as though this thinking is backwards as compared to others. Many people want to forget the bad things or pretend that they didn't happen. If they don’t have a record of them, they can pretend that it didn’t happen in the first place. However for me, I’ve always had this feeling, or maybe desperate hope, that my struggles are important. A part of something bigger. Or maybe it’s just masochism of being interested in my own self destruction and how my brain is constantly working to self sabotage. I’m not sure. All I know is that looking at my writing patterns, the times I have written the most are times of stress, confusion, and desperation. The amount of words that I can crank out of my head in a situation that I feel trapped, like being in a hospital or in the desert, is amazing even to me. I can sit for hours and write word after word, symbolically organizing and reorganizing the mess that is my brain in those situations.

A more productive way of looking at my writing in crisis is my ability to use writing to help heal. As I stated above, organizing my thoughts, especially tough ones, and being able to speak them eloquently is not one of my strengths. However, put a pen in my hand and I can usually sort through the many emotions going on in my brain. Often times, I will write something, go back and read it, and not even realize I felt that way until it came out on paper. Writing has a way of helping me to make sense of what is going on around me and inside of me.

Most of all, writing is therapeutic. Even if it doesn’t help me sort anything out, even if it’s not my best work, the process of writing down my thoughts, recognizing feelings, and getting them ‘out of my brain’ is liberating.

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As a person that is highly self critical, there are not many things that I claim to be good at. However, I do know my strengths and weaknesses pretty well. I know that if you toss me a soccer ball, there’s no way I can maneuver that thing with my feet into the goal. But if you toss me a basketball, I can put that thing through the hoop pretty quick. I know that if you put me in front of a room of people over the age of 15, I will struggle much more than if you put me in a room full of young kids. I know that I would rather sit down and write a long paper than do a few algebra questions. I know that the likelihood of me winning a spelling bee is much higher than me winning a baking contest. Some things just come easier to me than others, but even with the things that come easier, I still struggle to claim any success in them. This includes writing.

I was very apprehensive to start this blog for many reasons. I have been told much of my life by teachers, friends, and family that I’m a decent writer, and although I do know that it comes easily to me, I tell myself that people are just being nice. After all the kind comments on my first blog post, I texted a friend and asked her to read it and to give me brutally honest feedback. I was waiting, hoping, for someone to tear apart my writing like I do. Yet, she did not and no one else did either. The past few weeks I’ve been constantly surprised by people’s nice words, and feel totally undeserving of their praise.

Slowly but surely, I’m trying to lean into this discomfort. Before I went to the Ranch, I kept most of my thoughts secret. I kept them in my head, kept them in my notebooks, kept them in my computer. However, since I’ve been home, the words of one of my friends that I met at the Ranch have been running through my mind. One day in frustration, I was complaining how even though I was working as hard as I could, nothing was happening. She listened quietly and then said simply, “Cassie, you can write as many novels as you want in those damn notebooks of yours, but until you start talking out loud about what’s going on in your head, nothing is ever going to happen.”

As I've thought about it more, I realized just how right she really was. If I continue to keep things inside, whether it’s inside my notebooks or inside my head, nothing's going to happen. I won’t be able to make meaningful relationships, if no one knows who I truly am. I won’t be able to work through the tangled mess in my brain, if no one knows what I’m struggling with. I won’t be able to stave off the shame that I feel about parts of my journey, without sharing it and making the truth known. Most of all, no good will come out of my suffering, if no one hears my story.

As I have reflected on this, I have felt the gentle nudging from God to lean. Lean into the doubts in my mind that each post isn’t good enough, written well enough, or meaningful enough. Lean into the fears and insecurities about being vulnerable and sharing my story. Lean into the anxiety that the support I’ve felt so far will fall away and be replaced with judgement. Lean into my expectations and hopes for this blog, and trust that God will use it for His good.

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him and he will make your paths straight." -Proverbs 3:5-6

I’m slowly realizing that the satisfaction and unburdening that I’ve felt from sharing my story outweighs my fear of vulnerability and shame. This blog is one of my first intentional steps toward caring less about what others think of me and focusing more on what God thinks of me. I’ve prayed hard about sharing these pieces of my story, and continue to feel led to share in hopes that my words that are so painstakingly written and revised can maybe touch someone’s life, or inspire them to use their voice to share the hard parts of their own story. I pray every day for the success of this blog in whatever way God wants that to look, whether it be views and reads and popularity, or just touching the people that need it at the right time. This mindset is new to me. As someone that is competitive, likes things to be perfect and thrives off of positive affirmation, I've had to come to terms with the fact that I may never know how my words affect someone else’s life. I’m working hard to be ok with that because I know that God has a plan for me and my story and I sincerely want Him to use me in whatever ways He can. I’ve come to the realization that no matter how hard I work to make these blog posts perfect, God has the final say in how they are used. If I trust in Him and listen to what He has to say to me, no matter what judgement I may receive or how many views I get, in the end, His will will be done with this blog.

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Writing in many ways, has saved my life. Now, I’m hoping that writing can help me to start over again. I hope that by writing this blog, I can share the parts of my story that I have always been afraid to own, in fear of judgement or disappointment. I hope that by being vulnerable, I can deepen my connection with the people in my life. Most of all, I hope that in some way, my journey can be used for the good of someone else.

My hopes for you reading these blog posts, is that you will be able to find one small thing that you can connect to in your life. I hope that there’s something that makes you think and reflect, or encourages you in an area that you’re struggling in. I hope that my words can in some way inspire, empower, or renew you or that they can remind you of something that makes you happy. Regardless of where you are or what is going on in your life as you read these words, I hope that the time that you graciously sacrificed in your busy day to read was worth it in some way, big or small. ❤️