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I’ve been writing about mental health on Medium and my site, Nerve 10, for a year.
Along the way, I’ve made some observations that I’d like to share with you, the readers who have stuck by my side.
Here are six things surprising lessons I learned — and am still learning:
1. I learned that the inevitable anxiety is at its worst before the writing process begins, so it is best to just get started.
Anxiety doesn’t go away after I get down to work, but it decreases significantly.
The build-up is much worse than the actual writing process.
More importantly, the anticipatory anxiety does not determine the experience as a whole — it’s just one small component of it.
This is true for most experiences in life. The horrors that I have imagined have only come to pass in one place — my head.
I’ve learned that there are plenty of ideas in my head, but they don’t mean anything until they get on to the page.
Some of those ideas will still be good ideas once they have escaped my brain, but they will have zero chance to prove their worth if they don’t get out of my head in the first place.
2. I’ve learned that writing about mental health changes me and how I view the process of creation.
The poems and stories that readers like are not the ones that I thought they would like. The “successful” posts are the ones that have stood up and pronounced themselves — all on their own.
It’s not for me to decide what is the best and what is the worst. I am the messenger, not the final arbiter.
Once an idea has been released, it is up to others to decide what it’s worth to them.
3. Writing about mental health — my own, others, the health of the world — is an airing out of my mind.
It creates the space for me to move on to other ideas and projects.
Releasing my thoughts lets them fly, freeing up space for new ones.
And as long as I’m writing, there will always be new ideas.
4. I am not unique. Even the weirdest, most shameful ideas are relevant to others. In fact, the strangest ideas often are the most relevant ideas I put out into the world.
That’s right. I am not special, nor am I grotesque.
I am a human trying to find his way in the world, marching alongside other humans searching for meaning in this spinning, nebulous whirlwind that we call life.
5. If I can write and make meaning for others — then I must.
I need to share my truth and let others line up their truth next to it.
Again, this is not something for me to decide.
If I feel so called to share with the world — and if the world is receptive — then I must do what is required of me.
This is not a feeling that I ever experienced before I started writing consistently about mental health.
I’ve learned that my head is a prison, but I have the key to set my thoughts free.
Some of the worst things I have ever experienced have happened inside my head. What I’m learning, more and more, is that I am the prison guard of my own dusty cell. I have the key, and I can unlock my mind, air it out, and show it to the world whenever I want.
The choice is mine. What’s most surprising is that the more I do this, the easier it gets.
Freedom is in making the decision; it’s in taking the risk to be known by others.
6. I am alone in this world, but I can still be understood by others.
We all have this ability.
What I’ve learned to do — and this is important — is give myself permission to be known.
Most of the labels and criticism and derision I have suffered have grown from a seed that I, myself, have planted.
What I mean is this: when I close myself, my views, and my embarrassing thoughts off from others, I never give the universe a chance to acknowledge the commonalities. I prejudge my own existence and separate myself from others. As terrifying as it may be, I cannot know who I am until I am known in the eyes of others.
And so I write to know myself — to use my words as symbolical conduits through which others can see themselves and, in turn, me.
You may recognize familiar ideas in what I’ve written here. You may see yourself in these words.
As you do, you affirm who I am, who we are, and the very human process that makes it so.
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This post was originally published on Medium.com and is republished with the author’s permission.
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