I saw a post the other day that said every writer is a true yapper at heart. And the first thing I thought when I read it is: that couldn’t be farther from the truth.
Ever since I was a little girl, I have been reserved — the quiet girl who didn’t really talk much. I always struggled with some level of social anxiety. Although I have always been a heavy thinker with plenty of opinions and passions, expressing these ideas aloud can sometimes get lost in translation.
This struggle with verbal communication inevitably led me to take up writing. (Yes, my whole career path derives from a coping mechanism.) When I started getting positive feedback from the ideas that I struggled to verbalize in real time — now being presented beautifully on a page — I knew I had found my calling.
Funny enough, I thought choosing the career path of being a writer would inevitably save me from having to interact with people (laughs in Journalism major), but that’s another story.
While I’m not the same shy girl I was in grade school — I don’t mind striking up a casual convo with the cashier at Trader Joe’s — to know me is to know that IRL I’m a woman of few words.
My social anxiety is still alive, but I kinda just accepted that I don’t talk when I feel like there’s not much worth saying. I noticed that some people can bring out my inner yapper. If I truly feel seen enough around someone and comfotable, I can ramble about my innermost personal thoughts and opinions on modern-day culture, music, spirituality, or my latest trivial obsession. But even with the people I’m closest to in my life, there gets to a point where I’ve reached my verbal character limit for the day, and I just want to vibe and react.
My lack of fluidity with verbal skills in most social situations has been an ongoing insecurity for most of my life. It’s made it hard to connect with a lot of people and put me in situations that would probably make Issa Rae cringe. I have this notion that I’m like the coolest person ever, just not everyone gets to see it.
I think the problem is I have so much going on in my head that sometimes, it’s hard to condense it into a digestible format that makes sense. So sometimes it gets lost in translation and just leads to awkward, off-putting encounters. I often say that my brain is like a computer that constantly gets a 404 error message.
I accepted that being a little awkward is just a piece of me I have to honor and embrace, but a new anxiety formed when I started to struggle with my most comfortable form of expression — putting words on a page.
I know every writer goes through their own grueling process of trying to create something that we feel is worth reading. But being that I put so much of my confidence, self-expression, and even self-worth into my writing, I started to feel like an impostor when some stuff just wasn’t coming together.
Writing has always been a muscle that required a little exercise to maintain, but in the midst of battling extreme mental and physical stress, I dealt with severe brain fog that literally had me lost for words. I was used to being verbally challenged, but not with the one thing I basically built my life around.
This wasn’t just with formal writing like long-form Substack posts, blogs, or freelance assignments. I started struggling with crafting cohesive emails, social posts — I even spent more time than necessary typing a text. Thanks to B12, matcha, and restoration of my overall health, I’m a little sharper these days, but there are times when words still escape me.
Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t lost all my juice. Bills had to get paid, and thankfully, I have still been able to produce work I’m extremely proud of. But even now with a clearer mind, there are times when I find myself using the same phrase several times throughout a piece, or if I think to myself, does this sound so cliche that AI could have written it?
The thing about being a writer is like any art form, writing is subjective. You can have a best-selling novel, thousands of subscribers on Substack, a thriving media platform, and there will always be someone who doesn’t get it.
I’d like to think writing is my gift. Ever since I typed up a short story about my first trip to Chicago on my mother’s Dell computer on Microsoft Word in 2006, I knew I had something special. Not just something that could make me feel safe enough to share my thoughts without any off-beat pauses or fumbling over words, but something that embraced me, accepted me wholly, and pushed me to show up as my full, authentic self.
But no matter how many accolades I reach through my writing and no matter how many times I get sent back documents covered in “suggestions”, I have made peace with the fact that my worth is not tied to my expression in any form. My worth is what I say it is, period. My writing and my words are just an extension of myself. Who I am to my core is much more intricate and complex to form sentences around.
An Ode to an Empty Page
There are times when anxiety shows up on a page before I do. Kind of like first date jitters. It’s not the first time you went out with someone, you’ve gotten through plenty of meet ups just fine without knowing who the person you’ll be acquainted with turns out to be. Yet, when you’re back to square one, the nervousness from the uncertainty of it all returns. Sometimes I freeze, paralyzed not knowing what to say. Sometimes I flee, scared I’ll make a fool out of myself. But on the best of times, I stay. I fight away the doubt, insecurities, and limiting beliefs and I do the work that’s required to create a long lasting relationship. I get past the awkward phase of trying to find commonalities with words and slowly unleash all my vulnerabilities and in return creative force reveals its secrets to me. Not all dates with a page are going to leave you with butterflies in your stomach. Sometimes it takes a few more outings before you feel that spark. Sometimes you have to let it go and realize it wasn’t meant to be. But regardless, one thing is true. You have to go on a first date before you fall madly in love. The first date jitters are just part of the process.
If you enjoyed this post, feel free to support future musings by buying me a coffee (more like a matcha or tea, but you get the idea). Also, a simple like, comment, or share goes a long way. Any form of support is greatly appreciated. 🤍
omg, are you a pisces mercury like me?! this is veryy relatable! art is a way to express myself in a way plain words can’t
Oh my gosh I relate so deeply. Having been very quiet but creative kid writing really was a safe space. Having to understand and evolve in the relationship with writing has been an ever changing thing. You pulled the words right from my mouth with this piece. Thank you! ❤️