The Words We Resist - Rediscovering the Joy of Writing
Day 2 - Morning musings
I made myself a promise: 30 Substack blogs in 30 days. The reason for this promise is to get inspired with my writing again and to stop letting perfectionism cripple me into inaction. For the last seven years, I have almost completed seven different versions of the same book. The key word here is ‘almost’. I get to 60,000 words, and something in me decides to sabotage the end, telling me there is no reason to continue. As if almost completing something and not releasing it is somehow better than finishing it, and risking it not receiving the response I am hoping for.
I’m only on day two, and already I am trying to find excuses not to show up. As I prepared to open my laptop this morning, my mind started telling me I didn’t know what to write about. It’s crazy how manipulative my own mind can be. For a second, I almost believed it. The truth is, I have so many things to write about, but what I’m really afraid of is that no one is going to read these, and these words will sit unread.
I’m so used to judging my work on how it’s received that I’ve forgotten that the joy doesn’t lie in who reads it, but in the act of writing itself. Writing is a form of therapy for me – a way to heal, process, and integrate. The written word has always held a special place in my heart. When I was a child, I would write for the joy of it: poems about life, stories about mystical lands – I even loved writing essays. But as I progressed further into the schooling system, I stopped writing for joy and instead began writing for grades. I learnt what teachers liked and didn’t like, and crafted my work to fit into the framework that would earn me a good mark. I abandoned my pen in favour of A’s, and in the process, I forgot that writing is for me and me alone. It has always been a place for me to return to, no matter what’s going on. In truth, it has been one of the most intimate relationships I’ve had, but at times I fall back into the idea that how it is received validates its worth – something I’m guilty of doing not just with my writing.
Many years ago, when I was doing some inner child healing, I was given the exercise of writing down the things I did as a child that brought me joy. Top of the list was writing. It was in that moment I realised the thing that had brought me the most joy was also the thing I had done the least in recent years. It was then that someone introduced me to The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. I was searching to reconnect with parts of my creativity and longing for some guidance, so I dove right in. I have to admit, I didn’t do all of the practices – some I skipped over – but one that stayed with me for a number of years was my morning pages. Countless notebooks filled with morning musings. I found such freedom in that practice – writing for the sake of writing – and it led me to parts of myself I didn’t know existed, or that I thought were no longer there. In those pages, I found the 10-year-old girl who loved to write.
Fast forward five years to 2023, when I went through a difficult period: my business liquidated, my visa for the UK expired, and parts of my support system dismantled. This was a time when I needed my pen and pages the most, and yet it was the first thing I abandoned. Instead of turning to what I knew would provide me with solace and answers, I turned away, and if truth be told, I’ve kept myself turned away ever since. I suppose this is my attempt at returning to that practice, to that place that has held me through so much.
So this is what I have today. As I sit here sipping the rest of my morning matcha I feel complete. It isn’t necessarily enlightening or entertaining, but it is my truth. I woke up not wanting to show up, yet here I am, some words later, feeling better than I did before I started. If you take anything from this today, remind yourself that the things we often resist are the things that hold the most for us.
With love,
Millee x
