Tag Archives: writing

When You Have Nothing to Say

I was never really that good at writing, but it was always something I found to be therapeutic. For me, and I’m sure a lot of you reading this as well, being vulnerable was never something I was really good at either. But whenever I would journal I was able to let down the mask of “I’m fine” and expose the “for the love of God please somebody help me” side that was shameful for me to verbally express.

Now it’s been a while since I’ve written anything, and it’s because I always feel as if I have nothing of importance to say. Even writing this, all I can think is, “Ok Jess, where the hell are you going here?” So without trying to do linguistic acrobatics and paint a nice pretty picture for you all, I’ll just get right down to it.

It’s not that we never have anything to say, I think it’s that small little voice of insecurity that makes us believe what we have to say isn’t worth saying. I’ve been listening to a ton of podcasts by one of my heroes, Glennon Doyle Melton, lately. She always talks about being vulnerable, authentic and being a truth teller. If you haven’t heard her speak before I really encourage you to go find her TEDx Talk she did. Writing for me was always my way of being vulnerable. If you’ve read this blog for some time now you know this is the place where I can lay it all out there and say “here is my pile of garbage I carried around for years, I hope you like it”.

So lately, being in one of the most vulnerable states I’ve been in in my entire life (I guess living in a foreign country does that to you), I’ve been really struggling to find anything to write here. But really what it is, it’s that stupid little voice in my head saying “what you have to say doesn’t matter or isn’t important”. Ok so here’s where I get all knowledgeable and preachy. You can stop reading now if you wish….

Still here? Ok brace yourselves……..

We were all born with a voice, an opinion, a personality, and insurmountable value. We all have things that stir us up, get us excited, anger us, make us question things, and so on. So going back to being vulnerable, when we feel these things and they don’t fit in with what is “normal” to those around us, what do we do? We shut up. We don’t say a word, and we walk around making ourselves believe that we don’t have anything to say. But we do have so much to say, it’s just one of two things. Either we’re too scared to be vulnerable out of fear of being judged, or it’s because we know what we have to say isn’t something others want to hear. It boils down to those two factors.

Some of the greatest movements started and changed the lives of so many because someone took that chance to be vulnerable. If MLK never spoke out against civil rights, who knows where our country would be today. Imagine what voting rights for woman would look like if people like Susan B. Anthony never spoke up. Mental health awareness movements would be nonexistent if people let vulnerability hold them back.

Ok so I feel like I’m running out of steam here for this so I’ll wrap this up and you may continue on with your days. I probably could have just used the next sentence as my entire post:

It’s not that we don’t have anything to say, we just have that small voice we listen to that is scared of being vulnerable and authentic.


Nagging Little Voices

I am plagued by voices.

Not the ones you hear about on televisions

Not the ones glamorized in movies.

They don’t propel you to fame.

They don’t land you book deals or make people interested in you.

They keep me trapped inside my room

Gnawing at my ears and clawing their way up my spine.

“You’re not good enough”

“You’ll never get where you want to be in life”

At first, I was strong.

I knew they were just illusions of my mind.

The pessimistic and self-deprecating side of my personality.

Yet now….

Now I’m starting to believe them again.

“Just stop trying.. you’re not going to make it anyways”

These aren’t the voices that attract others my way.

These voices isolate me from my best friends.

They make the touch of my boyfriends hands sting like daggers

They tell me he is just going to be like everyone else.

“It’s only a matter of time before he leaves you. Nobody stays”.

When did I become so weak against them?

When did I let my guard down just enough for them to climb their way over?

How did I not see that they were always lurking outside of the barrier I placed up?

These parts of life are not glamorous

These are the things we keep at the bottom of our discussion pits.

Things too shameful to tell therapists, friends and family members.

The things that keep us bound to our beds like slaves being brought to America in chains.

And you still like to glamorize the sick?

Depression: When Creativity Dies

So I’ve been really struggling with my depression lately, and I have to say it’s becoming rather frustrating. I don’t want to sound like “that person” that I’m sure we’ve all had encounters with but there’s really no reason for me to feel this fucking low/hopeless as I have been. I’m on winter break, I have two great jobs and everything going for me as I’ve said before but I cannot seem to get rid of this feeling.

The biggest frustration with feeling this way is that my love for music is non-existent. Since the time I was 13 I’ve loved playing and writing music, but lately when I try and pick up my guitar it’s like there’s this voice inside my head that’s telling me there’s no point in playing. It won’t get me anywhere in life and playing just because I used to enjoy it and have such a passion for playing music doesn’t really matter any more. I tried playing a bit today, but after a while it all seemed so pointless to me.

I wish music and being creative gave me that same escape and relief it once did, but this depression has got its hold on me and is more powerful than the music. I actually tried writing today, but I stopped halfway through. The creativity I had for a moment died, like my passion for playing and I was left with half a song. I just want to feel that way I used to about music. I loved it, it saved me in moments where I wanted to hurt myself. Now, the closest thing I can get to loving music on most days is listening to it.

I’ll post the lyrics I wrote today if you all want to read them, they’re below.

I placed my heart
In a box, wrapped in bows.
Sent it out in the mail
I hope it finds you well.

Wherever you are, wherever life took you
My heart is on the way.

Whatever might come, whatever you’ve been through

Believe me when I say
Here I come, here comes my heart
My love, I hope it’s enough.

Ps: I just want to thank you guys for reading and following this blog. It’s helped me immensely knowing others care about my writing and want to keep up to date on what I have to say. I love you all!!