Blank Pages

I have a beautiful journal that sits on my shelf, its pages blank and waiting. It’s filled with potential, yet I’ve never dared to write in it. Why? Because I’m afraid I’ll ruin it with my bad handwriting.

This fear isn’t just about the letters themselves; it’s about the weight of expectation. Journals are often seen as sacred spaces for thoughts, dreams, and reflections. The idea of filling those perfect pages with my imperfect “chicken scratch” feels daunting. I worry that my writing won’t live up to the beauty of the journal, that I’ll ruin it somehow.

The pressure to create something meaningful can be overwhelming, especially when I struggle with dysgraphia. My handwriting doesn’t flow as easily as I’d like, and every time I think about writing, I feel that wave of anxiety wash over me. It’s ironic, though, because by not writing at all, I’m missing exactly what a journal is meant to be: a space for exploration, growth, and authenticity.

Maybe it’s time to redefine what my journal means to me. Instead of fixating on perfect hand writing, I could focus on the thoughts and feelings I want to express. Each word doesn’t have to be legible or pretty; it just needs to be honest and real. A journal should reflect my journey, imperfections included.

So here’s my commitment: to pick up that journal and write, regardless of how messy it may turn out. The act of writing should be freeing, a way to explore my thoughts without judgment. Perhaps those “ruined” pages will turn out to be my favorite, full of raw emotion and genuine expression.

To anyone else who struggles with similar fears: remember, your words matter, regardless of how they look on paper. Embrace the imperfections, and let your journal be a true reflection of yourself.

Until you read again