BEGINNINGS. I’ve always considered myself a writer, but purely in the sense that I write often, and only for myself, my family and my friends. I write through journaling, email exchanges, collaging, and handwritten letters; nothing structured, nothing neat, nothing public. And I’ve realized words are my love language – handwritten letters and the gift of books. Books whisper: This meant something to me, I hope it touches you too. Write me a letter, give me a book and we’ll be friends – you’ll definitely get that in return. Throw in some dark chocolate while you’re at it too. But really, I write to understand. To understand myself, others and this world – as a way to process, to hold on, to let go. I think of writing as a way of gifting oneself the capacity to feel, to express, to be. This gift to ourselves can manifest in different forms for every person, but for me it has been through words. In a world that can be so heavy, writing has been my outlet to not hold its weight, as a way to center myself when I drown in the chaos that surrounds me.

I’ve never wanted to write in an open space, besides the far away dream to publish a book once I feel I have enough life experience to write something worth reading. I’ve wondered why others feel the need to share details of their lives with strangers. It almost feels deceitful reading the inner most thoughts of someone I don’t know and why they’d want me to know that about themselves – something usually raw, truthful and real. And so, I’ve questioned why many do it. Why expose oneself to the potential criticism and judgement of people who don’t even know you? But I’ve realized that as I read strangers’ works – the books, the blogs, the newsletters, the social media posts – I feel connected to them. I feel connected to the essence of what it is to be human, in all its madness and anger, joy and sadness, and most importantly, its love. I don’t relate to everything I come across, no one does. We all have different interests and preferences – but the works of others that I like, I feel connected to in a way that makes life feel a little gentler, offering a sense of belonging and mutual understanding among each other.

I see writing as a way to share what is vulnerable, what is true, what is broken, what is brave. Sharing words with the world is a form of self-expression, and I guess reading others words has given me enough courage to start sharing some of mine too. Despite the quite private person I consider myself to be, maybe this will encourage someone else to feel comfortable expressing themselves too – in whatever form that takes. None of us are ever really alone in this thing called being human. It’s all messy, but hopefully it’s full of a whole lot of love.

As this project has come to be, I didn’t expect to share my first post on my birthday, but it feels fitting – I’m not quite ready, but if I don’t just jump, I may never be. So 26 it is. Beginning something new as I make my way into the latter half of my twenties, terrified it might lead me nowhere, with the hopes of it being somewhere.

Book Recommendation:

I’m not quite sure how I’ll go about these book recommendations; I like different genres and styles of books, but this first one has been part of my process and quietly nudged me to the starting line: The Art of You by James McCrae. How do we cultivate and embrace our own creativity? We are all inherently creative people, and creativity is a process of discovery: meeting more of yourself where you are. It is the experience of listening to ourselves and creating space for the curiosity and exploration that arises within us. James argues it’s not about what you create, but rather the act of creating itself that matters.

Creativity takes all forms. For me, it’s reading, writing and collaging. For some, it’s dancing, cooking, photography or painting. Maybe it’s none of those, but something else – whatever it is, creativity is a way to express yourself, to connect more deeply with yourself and most importantly, to be present with yourself.

We’re all artists – it’s up to each of us to paint the story of our lives.