This article took time to grow... and to be written too. I have barely written these last few months, at least publicly, and I had a lot of questions about it.
There were moments when I didn't feel like writing and it seemed final. It scared me because I love it and I need it. Because I felt like I was letting the world win. Win over me and my desires, my words and my power. Win because I felt like getting small again and writing to me is everything but being small. It's taking space, taking my place.
But now, I know I just didn't have the space to write and things to heal. And I'm guessing it will happen again.
And there were moments when the desire to write came back out of nowhere and it soothed me to know it was still here, even if I didn't put in time or energy to make something out of it, and often as fast as it would come, it would go away again in the intricacies of life and other priorities.
I slowly understand that writing is for me, besides what is associated with it. I better understand my - unchanging- intentions, I understand better what writing needs to blossom through me.
It needs space. And I didn't have any to give.
(Break: Damnit, people, it feels so good to write! After that, I'll go jump around more or less in rythm to any song I find)
A lot of things have changer for me, inside and out. Losses, new projects, fears and challenges.
I also discovered the difference between pressure and perseverance. Writing doesn't flourish under pressure. Writing needs structure, a frame, and I couldn't find the right one between to much rigidity and no structure at all. It needs a parent letting it's child write. That's how I see it for now.
It needs to be here for itself, not for others. Whenever others intrude in its world, it's not free anymore, it's stuck. Writer's block. Maybe we should say writing's block.
I know better now too, what's my part and what is yours dear readers, and it feels good. My intention is always the same, to share my experience so it can make yours richer and bring you new questions and insights, maybe. Sharing my experience to show every experience is valid and deserve to be heard. Share my experience so those who need it can find themselves in it and feel less lonely, just like I've always wanted.
This is about me, but also about you. What you read is just the reflection of your own inner world, your experiences. I realise you will never know what these words mean to me, but only what they mean to you. And if you are looking for the meaning I give them, then you miss the point. These words are mine when I write them, but they are yours when you read them. This is the beauty of it.
Now, I know. Writing needs me, not you.
I was so scared to write for the "wrong reasons", because I need recognition, to create connections, to discharge my emotions, to be validated. Now, I differentiate these reasons, but more importantly these needs that are HUMAN NEEDS, and my intentions. Maybe sometime, these needs will make me write, and that's okay. And maybe it will lead me to write things that I wouldn't have said this way in other circumstances. But now I know that if I don't loose sight of my intention, then I'll be fine. And I also know, that making mistakes is okay. Even, and maybe specifically publicly. It is a necessity.
I realise the consequences of writing online, and I'm ready. For the ones I know at least, I'll be ready of the others later. I'm ready for people not understanding, drawing conclusions on me, disagreeing, for trolls. I know it has nothing to do with me. I choose to do it anyway. Without forcing myself, without pressure but with perseverance.
I like writing because I can see my thought, feel them getting organised. I like writing because I can share them and they have an impact outside of me.
Writing is almost like talking to someone, but different. You never get out of it the same.
Écrire, c'est presque comme parler à quelqu'un, mais différent. On en ressort jamais pareil.
PS: Funny enough, after writing this article, another came to me. That feels good! I'm back.