I never thought of myself as a writer, nor did I believe I had the patience or skill to put my thoughts into words. As a kid, I tried writing diary entries, but they would last for three or four days at most before I lost interest. The idea of journaling or blogging my life never really appealed to me, as I didn’t see the value in capturing my daily routines. I didn’t see the point of documenting my life when I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to remember half of it. But life has a funny way of shifting your perspective when you least expect it.
As I grew up and faced unforeseen challenges, something within me shifted. I found myself carrying an overwhelming weight of pent-up emotions. Thoughts ran wild, stories formed and dissolved in my mind, and fantasies felt too vivid to ignore. My head was a chaotic mess, an endless loop of feelings and ideas that had nowhere to go. I didn’t talk about them or express them; I just let them pile up inside me.
And then, one day, I couldn’t hold it anymore. The feelings, the thoughts, the confusion in my head—it all needed an escape. So, I turned to writing. No plan, no structure, just a desperate need to let everything out. I didn’t intend to write anything profound. I just needed to pour my heart out. It was then that I realized I could write. Not in the way others did. I didn’t write about beautiful sunrises, mesmerizing city lights, overpriced coffee, or perfectly arranged bookshelves. That kind of writing never interested me. I wasn’t here to write for others. I was here to write for myself.
I wrote because I needed to. I wrote to let everything out that I had been holding back for so long. My words weren’t structured, weren’t polished, but they were raw, unfiltered, real. It felt liberating like finally letting my heart speak in a way that I had never allowed it to before. In real life, I often find it hard to express myself and to say what’s on my mind. But on paper or a screen, I am free.
Writing became more than an activity; it became therapy. It wasn’t just good—it was necessary—to express my feelings in words. To release all that I had pent up and let it flow onto a page. The weight on my chest eased, my head felt clearer. For the first time in a long while, I felt heard and understood-even if I was the only one listening.
It was then that I realised something important: healing doesn’t always come from external sources. Sometimes, you have to create your own space for healing, and for me, that space was writing.
People often think of therapy as something you seek from professionals, and although that is incredibly helpful, self-therapy is equally important. Writing became my self-conversation, my way of deciphering my feelings rather than drowning in them. Every article I wrote, every journal, every note on my phone—it all became a part of my self-healing.
I noticed something else too. Writing didn’t just help me express my sadness or frustration; it helped me explore my thoughts in ways I never had before. I began to know myself better—what made me happy, what made me anxious, what comforted me. I wrote about my struggles, but I also wrote about my victories, my hopes, and my dreams.
And slowly, without even realising it, I was healing.
I used to think emotions should be hidden, and that vulnerability was a weakness. But writing taught me that being myself wasn’t just a relief; it was empowering. It was a way to take back my story, to claim my feelings instead of letting them own me.
There is something incredibly liberating about writing without the fear of judgement. When I put my thoughts into words, I don’t have to worry about how they will be received. They are mine, and that’s enough.
Maybe writing isn’t for everyone, but I truly believe everyone should find a way to express themselves. Maybe for you, it’s not words; maybe it’s painting, music, dance, or even just talking to a close friend. The medium doesn’t matter; the act of expression does.
So, if you’re carrying emotions too heavy to bear and your mind is a storm of thoughts that have nowhere to go, let them out. Don’t hold them in. Don’t let them consume you. Find your own way to express, to release, to heal. And don’t worry about what the world thinks. Let them judge. Let them misunderstand. Who cares?
This is about you. Your healing. Your happiness.
So write, sing, dance, paint—whatever it takes. Just don’t let your emotions rot inside you. Give them a voice. Let them breathe. And most importantly, let yourself be free.
If you enjoyed this piece and want to explore more content on self-help, emotional well-being, and personal growth, feel free to check out my other articles on my profile at Her Campus MUJ. Let’s navigate this journey of healing and self-discovery together!