The inspiration for this post comes from a quote by Philippa Kabali-Kagwa in her book Flame and Song: “Yes, the writing was one of the things that helped – that and the sea.” That line resonates deeply because it captures the way writing can be as expansive and healing as the ocean itself—a place to pour out what feels unspeakable, to release the turbulence within, and to find clarity in the tides of our thoughts.
When emotions feel tangled and overwhelming, writing untangles them. Sometimes I don’t even know what I’m feeling until I see the words on the page. Writing has a way of reflecting back to us what’s buried deep in our subconscious. It’s raw, unfiltered, and brutally honest. In these moments, it becomes a mirror—showing us not only the hurt but also the resilience and strength we carry within.
For me, writing about difficult times is not about crafting something perfect. It’s about letting the mess spill out, unapologetically. Some days, the words come as an angry storm, filled with frustration and grief. Other days, they’re quieter—tentative explorations of feelings I didn’t know I had. Either way, they serve a purpose: they help me see.
There’s a unique kind of pain that comes from being unable to articulate what’s inside us. We try to explain our feelings to others, but words fall short. Writing, however, gives us the space to say things without fear of judgment. It’s a private conversation between us and the page—a safe space to scream, cry, and question.
When I can’t talk about something, I write about it. And often, in the act of writing, I discover not just the words but also the courage to confront what I’ve been avoiding. Writing becomes a process of alchemy—turning the unspeakable into something tangible, something I can hold and, eventually, release.
In a world that often feels chaotic and overwhelming, writing is a way to create order. The act of shaping thoughts into sentences—however fragmented—can bring a sense of control. Writing grounds us. It reminds us that we can still find meaning even in the midst of uncertainty.
More importantly, it allows us to step back and reflect. Through writing, I’ve been able to trace patterns in my struggles, see growth in my pain, and find beauty in moments that once felt unbearably dark. It doesn’t erase the chaos, but it helps me navigate it with a clearer head and a steadier heart.
If you’re reading this and feeling unsure about your own writing, let me say this: you don’t have to be a “writer” to write. You don’t need a perfectly structured story or poetic prose. All you need is honesty. Let the page be your sanctuary. Write the things you can’t say. Write the things you’re afraid of. Write the things that make no sense.
Writing doesn’t promise to fix everything. But it does offer a way through. It’s a space to process, to grieve, to celebrate, and to heal. And in a world that can feel overwhelming and isolating, writing reminds us that we are not alone—not in our thoughts, our struggles, or our stories.
So, when the world feels heavy, I encourage you to pick up a pen or open a blank document. Pour your heart onto the page. You might be surprised by what you find—not just in the words, but in yourself.
After all, as Kabali-Kagwa reminds us, writing can be as soothing and life-giving as the sea. And sometimes, that’s exactly what we need to keep going.
Wren Valentino
Beautiful words, my beautiful friend. Yes, it’s writing and the sea and love from those closest to thee- that keep me afloat.
ReplyDelete