Why I Write

On the morning of the second day, after a delicious breakfast at the inn, we gathered once again on the deck of the boathouse (the private part of the inn just for us) and wrote together.  Kristine gave us a task to complete in a short amount of time.  Tell us what writing means to you.  The influence of my fellow writers inspired me to write my list the way I did.  I came up with sixteen reasons, grouped in fours, where each reason started with the same word.

What Does Writing Mean to Me

Freedom – to express myself
Freedom – to expose myself
Freedom – to share myself
Freedom – to be myself

Joy – when you find that perfect word
Joy – when you find that perfect phrase
Joy – when you nail that dialogue
Joy – when someone tells you that your story moved them to tears

Satisfaction – to create something of my own
Satisfaction – to sort out my feelings
Satisfaction – to describe something without using the word ‘big’ or ‘small’, etc.
Satisfaction – to complete something and share it with others

Humility – to know that I gave comfort to someone I didn’t know needed it
Humility – to know I made someone smile
Humility – to know I touched someone
Humility – to know I moved someone

Kristine, however, didn’t stop there.  She then gave us more time to pick one of the items and expand on it.  It took me awhile to get going because I wasn’t sure what I wanted to write about in regards to the above list.  I spent a good amount of time thinking on each of the items I listed and why I listed them in the first place.  When I began writing, what came out was a complete surprise to me, but it felt cathartic to get it out.  It ended up being a piece on social anxiety, which after I read to the group, was told by Kristine that she had no idea that social anxiety felt like that. 

Freedom to Share Myself

Social anxiety is the antithesis of sharing.  Strangers frighten you.  A friendly smile freezes you.  A simple “how are you?” asked politely as you place your items on the grocery belt stymies your brain, makes you forget polite responses, ties up your tongue, short-circuits everything you’ve been taught as you stammer out “you too?”

Social anxiety is loneliness.  You can’t express yourself with your mouth.  You open it but your teeth function as a brick wall, containing the brilliant thoughts just aching to come out.  They push.  Oh do they push, bang, smash at that wall, but the eyes on you halt everything.  Even if you say it, you’re so awkward…it will come out wrong or twisted and you receive a puzzled look, a concerned look, a ‘holy shit what did she just say?’ look. 

You don’t share.  You sit in the corner, if you actually make yourself go, and watch the rest of the party have fun.  You don’t contribute.  Small talk gives you a headache.  You practice conversations in your head, then get frustrated when others don’t respond the way they did in your imagination.  You hide, concentrating on making friends with the family cat, instead of the cute boy or girl who smiled at you across the room.

It’s stressful.  You want to connect, you want to have friends, you need to have friends, but the ones who fully understand you are few and far between.  Those ones know to talk first, to ask questions, to be patient, to let you work it out and give you the space to be comfortable.

There is one friend, though, one that never fails you.  Oh, it will still frustrate you, and sometimes you’ll want to smash it yourself, but the keyboard is waiting at home, in your safe space, in your quiet.  The plastic smoothness comforts your fingers and the rhythmic tapping soothes your anxious mind.  You’re finally sharing your thoughts and words.  It’s on a screen.  It may never be seen.  But they’re out, finally, and you can finally have peace of mind.