Why I Blog
A few years ago, I didn’t really understand why, but I’ve always found it hard to talk about certain things, especially when they’re about me. Whenever someone asked something personal, my mind would just go blank.
Other times, I’d avoid sharing my feelings or experiences because it felt like admitting that I cared, that I got hurt, and that I let it happen. And deep down, maybe I was afraid that talking about it would mean I somehow deserved it.
Maybe I just couldn’t accept that I was mistreated. Maybe it was pride. I didn’t want to be seen as weak or worse, as a victim.
When I was in college, we were required to visit the school psychologist before the end of each school year. There was one time we even had to do group therapy. I found it uncomfortable to share anything in front of others, so the psychologist asked if I wanted to talk one-on-one. But even then, I couldn’t bring myself to open up. I didn’t know how. At the end of the session, she told me, “You should write a blog.”
At the time, I shrugged it off. It didn’t feel like something I’d actually do. I did have a Tumblr where I dumped a lot of my thoughts, but the idea of putting something more personal out in public felt wrong and too vulnerable.
But now? I think she was onto something.
Writing something you know others might read is different from writing just for yourself. It becomes a kind of one-sided conversation. And in that space, you slowly learn how to say things you’ve never said before.
Maybe that’s how vulnerability works for me, not breaking down in front of someone, but just letting myself be seen, piece by piece. There’s a kind of safety in writing. You get to pause, to choose your words, to decide how much you’re willing to show. But there’s also a kind of courage in letting those thoughts exist outside of you.
These days, when I have an idea, an emotion, an observation or a thought that feels important, I write it down right away. I feel the need to list it down or process it before it disappears because once it disappears, it’s hard for me to retrace my thoughts and feelings and the reason for my actions. Writing helps me make sense of emotions, even when they’re unclear at first. It helps me recognize what I’m really feeling so that I ask myself or when someone asks, I already understand.
I’ve also noticed that sharing what I’m thinking, asking questions and expressing emotions, makes everything feel lighter. It prevents misunderstandings and makes life feel a little less complicated. I still don’t always know how to express the full extent of what I feel, because half the time I’m still figuring it out. I have to sit with it, untangle it, and ask myself: Am I being logical? Or just emotional? Or both?
When I look at where I am now, I know I’ve made progress. I’m not as afraid of being seen. I’m not as hesitant to speak, even when I’m still learning how to say what I mean.
Starting a blog helped with that. It gave me a quiet space to speak without being interrupted or misread. A place where I could explain myself without rushing. The more I write, the more I understand myself better, not just the version I present to others, but the one I’m still getting to know.
This actually reminds me of Sherlock’s friend, John, who started blogging because his therapist told him to. It seemed silly at first, but now I get it. Writing about your life, your thoughts, your realizations… it grounds you.
And sharing it with others? That’s where it begins. It softens the fear of being seen. Sometimes, it’s even cathartic.