Before I knew how to say everything out loud,
I could write it down.
The page didn’t need me
to explain myself perfectly.
It didn’t care
if I misspelled a word,
forgot to dot an i,
or ended a sentence
with three exclamation points
because apparently one wasn’t enough.
It let me show up
however I was that day.
Some days,
I wanted the details just right.
Other days,
a few scribbled shapes
said enough.
I could write something
that made perfect sense in my head,
read it back,
and realize…
Actually,
I have no idea what I’m talking about.
And somehow,
that belonged there too.
The page gave me room
to see what I was thinking
before I knew what to do with it.
Nothing had to be polished.
Nothing had to be shared.
Nothing had to become anything.
But every once in a while,
I’d create something
and wonder what might happen
if I let someone else see it.
So eventually,
I did.
And I discovered that sometimes
something created in private
can become a place
where two people meet.
Not everyone will stop there.
They don’t have to.
But someone might recognize
something of themselves
in what you’ve shared.
And maybe that’s enough reason
to leave a little room
for your voice to wander.
The Story Behind the Poem
Long before I was publishing books or writing Reflections for other people to read, I wrote for myself.
I loved journaling.
There was a freedom in knowing nobody else needed to see what was on the page. My spelling didn’t have to be perfect. My handwriting could get progressively worse as my thoughts moved faster. Some i’s probably never received their dots. Punctuation became more of a suggestion depending on how strongly I felt about whatever I was writing.
And yes, sometimes three exclamation points were absolutely necessary. 😆
I sketched too.
Some days I wanted realism. I could sit with a pencil and pay attention to the details, working with shading and trying to make what was on the page look like what I saw in my mind.
Other days?
Shapes.
Scribbles.
Whatever came out.
There wasn’t a standard I had to meet because I wasn’t creating for an audience.
I could show up as whatever version of myself I was in that moment.
I didn’t have to worry about whether someone understood what I meant. I wasn’t anticipating criticism or wondering whether what I’d created was good enough to share.
I could simply express myself.
That became especially important during times when expressing myself verbally didn’t feel as safe.
I could get something off my chest, out of my head, and onto paper.
And once it was there, I could look at it.
Sometimes writing helped me understand what I was feeling. Sometimes I would read what I’d written aloud and suddenly hear my own thoughts differently.
And occasionally I’d look at something that had made complete sense inside my head and think:
How in the world did this make sense to me? 😆
That was useful too.
I learn through seeing, hearing and doing. Journaling gave me an opportunity to move a thought through that process. I could see the words, hear them when I read them aloud, and interact with what I was thinking instead of letting everything continue swirling around in my head.
Sometimes I found clarity.
Sometimes I found more questions.
Sometimes I simply acknowledged that I didn’t know what to make of something yet.
The page could hold all of it.
As I got older, the places where I felt comfortable expressing myself began to expand.
I learned that I could seek guidance from my parents.
I learned that I could be vulnerable with trusted friends.
And eventually, I started experimenting with letting something I’d created privately become public.
I remember sharing a poem on Facebook.
Poetry had always seemed difficult to me, so sharing something I’d written felt vulnerable. But I wanted to try.
So I posted it.
And then something pretty cool happened.
A few people engaged with it.
They shared their thoughts. Something I’d written resonated with them, and we were able to connect around an idea that had started privately with me.
Did everyone click Like?
Of course not. 😆
But that wasn’t actually the goal.
I had wanted to try sharing something I’d worked on.
And in doing that, I learned that expression could become an invitation.
Something that helped me understand myself could leave my hands and give someone else an opportunity to reflect, respond, or say, I understand what you mean.
Something created in private became a meeting place.
I think that experience helped me become a little less afraid of sharing.
Not instantly.
We are talking about the woman who would eventually spend years suppressing the idea of publishing a book, so clearly there were a few more lessons required. 😆
But it gave me evidence.
I could create something.
I could let someone see it.
Some people might connect with it.
Others might keep scrolling.
And I would still be okay.
I think there’s something valuable about having spaces where expression doesn’t need an audience at all.
Not everything we create needs to become content.
Not every journal entry contains a lesson.
Not every poem needs to be published.
Not every sketch needs to be framed.
Sometimes we need room to explore what we’re thinking before deciding what, if anything, we want to do with it.
Expression doesn’t have to earn its value by becoming contribution.
There is value in the process itself.
But sometimes, after we’ve had room to explore privately, we may decide there is something we’d like to share.
That’s when expression can become something else too.
Connection.
Maybe someone recognizes themselves in your story.
Maybe your perspective helps them consider something differently.
Maybe they disagree and offer a perspective you hadn’t considered.
Maybe they simply laugh because something you said reminds them of themselves.
Our voices can meet in all kinds of ways.
That’s one of the things I’m beginning to appreciate about creating Flourishing Faithfully.
I’m writing publicly now, but I don’t want this to become a place where I simply tell you what I think.
I’d rather offer you something and leave some room.
Here’s what I’ve experienced.
Here’s what I’ve been thinking about.
Here’s something I’m learning.
What does it bring up for you?
Because your voice belongs in the conversation too.
Voice Notes
Something to sit with
Where do you feel most free to express yourself without worrying about whether what you create is good enough?
Maybe it’s a journal.
Maybe you sketch, paint, write poetry, make music, take photographs, cook, garden, tell stories, dance, build things, or have long conversations with someone you trust.
Maybe you haven’t found that space yet.
You don’t need to consider yourself creative to explore what expression looks like for you.
Give yourself some room
Try making something that has absolutely no requirement to become anything else.
Write without editing yourself.
Sketch badly on purpose if perfectionism keeps getting in the way.
Write a poem without deciding whether you’re a poet.
Put three exclamation points at the end of a sentence if that’s what the sentence needs that day. 😆
You don’t have to show anyone.
When you’re finished, notice what the process was like.
Did anything surprise you?
Did you understand something differently once you could see it outside of your own thoughts?
Did creating make room for an emotion you hadn’t acknowledged?
Or did you simply enjoy yourself?
That counts too.
And if you want to share…
You get to decide what leaves the page.
If there’s something you’ve created that you would genuinely like another person to experience, consider sharing it with someone you trust.
Not because it has finally become good enough.
Because perhaps you’re ready to let someone meet you there.
Scripture for Meditation
“I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.”
— Psalm 139:14
There is room to appreciate the person the Most High created you to be while you are still discovering more about who that person is.
Expression can be one way we pay attention.
Take This With You
You don’t have to turn everything you create into something useful.
Sometimes the page can simply be a page.
A place to think.
A place to make a mess.
A place to discover that something you were completely convinced made sense… absolutely did not. 😆
A place to show up as you are that day.
And sometimes you may look at something you’ve created and decide you’d like to open the door a little wider.
You can let someone else see it.
They may connect with it.
They may not.
But every now and then, something that began as a safe place for one person’s expression becomes a place where two people recognize something in each other.
Connection can be worth the vulnerability of expression.
And whether what you create stays with you or eventually becomes something you offer someone else, there is room for your voice here.
