pten

Words used to flow out of my fingers so easily.

And ever since it happened, it feels like they only come occasionally—like little flashes of light through a storm.

When I try to write now, I think of one of my favorite Olivia Rodrigo songs, where it says .

But I'm so scared of my guitar
'Cause it cuts right through to the heart
Yeah, it knows me too well, so I got no excuse
I can't lie to it the same way that I lie to you

I understand that.

I’ve always been terrible at expressing big emotions outwardly. And being raised performing and loving theater probably taught me pretty early that emotions don’t have to be as hard to hide as they feel.

But there’s one thing I’ve never really been able to lie to:

A notebook.

A pen and paper.

My fingers on a keyboard.

The written word.

And with all of the emotions I’ve been facing lately, I think I’m scared of writing because I’m scared of seeing what comes out.

Scared of seeing the hurt in plain, simple words.

Scared of having to face it.

I want to write messages of hope.

I know that’s why a lot of people come to this page. And I know some people have probably stopped reading because I haven’t been writing as much of that lately.

But I don’t have inspirational allegories coursing through my fingertips right now.

I don’t have million-dollar smiles or algorithm-dominating ideas.

I have a lot of broken pieces.

And some days, it feels like there isn’t any glue.

I used to feel better after I wrote.

Like somehow, once the words were on the page, the world made a little more sense.

But I think that, along with my sense of safety…

And a life where medical appointments don’t feel like a death threat…

They took that away, too.

And I’m here desperately trying to find my way back to the page

#chronicillness #trauma #mentalhealth #traumarecovery #healing #pten