Writing Scared or Scared of Writing: Finding the faith it takes to face my fears

I’ve written a lot about aging lately, so my apologies for those of you who are tired of hearing about that. I think it’s coming out in my writing, because it’s my reality. I see it in mirror each morning, I feel it the ways my body is starting to rebel each day, and I hear it in the rattling of the organized pill container of supplements I take each evening. The signs are there, and they make me more aware, because and they are hard to ignore.

I actually think some of those signs are starting to show in my writing. On some levels, I’m holding back, afraid of what my readers may think, wondering if those closest to me might disagree, and truly aiming for vulnerability and authenticity, but definitely feeling more insecurity than have probably ever felt before.

So many say that as you age, you care less about what people think, but the way the Lord has wired me, I’m not so sure that will ever be entirely true. I am a people pleaser through and through, and lately I find myself questioning is it worth it to go there on certain topics even though I may feel pretty passionate about it.

OK, I know I speaking in code, which is kind of the point of this post. I’m wrestling through the point of my continuing to write. If I stopped today, would anyone miss it? I know I would. The craft is life giving to me, and even when I struggle, I realize that’s kind of the purpose.

I woke up this morning questioning a lot! I have been working on a specific writing project this summer (that I’ve actually been thinking about and planning for over a decade now). I’ve been feeling the nudge to see it through, but this morning, I woke up and felt immediate defeat. I questioned everything. I questioned if it would resonate. I questioned the depth and purpose of it. I felt inadequate to take on such a topic. Even now, I’m afraid to share the topic with you because I’m afraid you’d think I was a hypocrite.

And because I still feel a little wishy-washy even after processing in this post, I'll close with this poem that seems to sum up what my head and heart can't quite put into prose just yet.

Writing scared
Wondering why
The words spill out
And at times feel dry

But with every word I write
And sentence they form
I fight the urge to stop
Because I feel so torn

Do I please the masses
So my words, they’ll see
Or write for Him
The way He’s wired me

This tug-of-war
And fight to write
Type and delete
Day and night

But this remains true
Whether I feel it or not
He is the reason
My words are hard fought

He loves us so much
His love has changed me
Which compels me to write
About what I believe

So, I will keep writing
Even if no one cares
I know He sees me 
Writing scared