Here, I Can Just Be Me

Writing has always been an outlet for me. As someone who has often struggled to find the right words to say, somehow, writing has helped me articulate them so fluently. Maybe it’s because I don’t feel rushed or pressured to get it right the first time. Maybe it’s because I can erase it and start over if I need to. Here, mistakes feel okay. Only I know that beneath the words that seem to flow so beautifully, there was once a mishap. But I won’t be judged for it, because you’d never know.

I haven’t written in a long time, even though writing had become my way of releasing things I couldn’t always put into words. I think things began to get too real. I reached a door I wasn’t ready to open, parts of myself I wasn’t ready to face, and truths that could no longer be ignored. So, I stopped.

I told myself it was because I wanted to protect the image of the people who hurt me. And while that’s partly true, I think more than anything, I wanted to protect myself.

Protect myself from the shame and guilt I felt for not getting it right. For not seeing what I should have seen all along. For not walking away, and for tricking myself into believing I was stuck.

I’ve been feeling so much these days that it’s hard to pinpoint a single emotion. At times, I feel them all. Sometimes I’m happy; sometimes I’m sad. Some days, I’m optimistic; other days, I’m fearful of what’s next. Some days, I’m vocal; other days, I have no words. Some days, I feel free; other days, I feel like I’m gasping for air.

I feel like I’m grieving, but then, what is there to grieve if you’ve let it go, right? Does that mean you never really let it go?

I feel like I’ve done so much work, yet there’s still so much more to be done.

So, I write. Because here, I can just be. Here, I can make mistakes and be free of judgment. Mistakes that can be rewritten, ones that no one else can see. Here, I can just be me.

These days, life feels like one big riddle I’m trying to uncover. It seems as though I’m faced with so many choices, each carrying the constant demand to make a decision. Sometimes, I just don’t know what to decide.

I’m still trying to grasp some form of understanding, but I know I can’t lean on my own understanding. And yet, if I don’t understand to some degree, God, how can I make the right choice? How do I know I’m fully doing what You’ve asked of me?

I guess I just have to move and trust that You’ll redirect my steps if ever I’m out of line. I have to trust that You’ll help me navigate this life of mine. I have to trust that You won’t shame me for making a mistake.

I’m beginning to understand that maybe the beauty in the story isn’t that I got everything right. Maybe it’s that even in the midst of my mistakes, You were able to make something great.