Chapter 1: The Safety of Writing

Writing has always felt like my sanctuary.

It's often said that public practice is essential for success. While it can be daunting to expose yourself to criticism, I believe that constructive feedback is crucial for improvement. Some argue that it becomes easier to publish frequently, but I've found that it actually feels more intimidating. The initial click of the publish button feels like a shout into the void. Once you have an audience, the expectation for quality increases, as readers come to anticipate a certain standard from your work.

Despite not having a large following, I can relate to this feeling. My first experience with it was as a teenager, crafting fanfiction. Admittedly, my early attempts weren't great, and I've done my best to erase those remnants from the internet. However, the Wayback Machine ensures my digital history remains. While I may not be proud of those early writings, they hold a special place in my memories. I cherished the process of releasing my stories chapter by chapter and receiving feedback, even the unfavorable critiques.

Without those early responses, I wouldn’t be the writer I am today. The encouragement I received during that time baffled me, yet it fueled my passion for writing. I may not have realized it then, but I desperately needed that outlet. From a young girl using pseudonyms to an adult writing under a pen name, I found solace in expressing myself. It was a refuge from my reality, allowing me to explore my identity without facing immediate consequences.

Growing up, I was taught to conceal my true self. My family's strict religious beliefs imposed numerous restrictions on my identity. I was not permitted to embrace my queerness, to explore fashion trends, or to ask too many questions. My family insisted that even if their faith was flawed, living according to those principles was the best path.

Even then, I had my doubts. The religion felt like a convenient escape, providing no motivation to make the world better, vote on important issues, or take action to protect the environment. It seemed that nothing mattered since God would eventually handle everything.

My parents, though well-meaning, struggled to raise me. They would have likely been excellent parents to a child who shared their views. However, despite their efforts to shape me, I was determined to forge my own path. I sought answers to my questions and grappled with intense emotions that needed to be addressed. Therapy and medical assistance were taboo topics, only surfacing when crises arose.

Even then, the complexities of my struggles were so deeply intertwined with my life that I could hardly pinpoint what I was battling against. My issues thrived in isolation, a situation that was all too readily provided to me. I lacked the opportunity to socialize with those outside the faith. Online schooling kept me at home, and my social interactions were limited to fellow believers. No matter how much I yearned for connection, I always felt out of place. I realized, in hindsight, that I couldn't find my community among a group that viewed life in absolutes and dismissed social issues as divine concerns.

The internet became my sanctuary. It's no surprise that I turned to writing and sharing my thoughts online, connecting with others in ways that were impossible in real life.

Am I ashamed of my adolescent writing? Certainly. Yet, I wouldn't alter a thing. It provided me with an escape and revealed a world ready to embrace my true self.

As an adult, distanced from my childhood faith, I continued writing under a pseudonym, still haunted by the fear of rejection. I kept my pen name hidden from most people in my life, afraid of being judged. However, over time, I recognized that this alias was inhibiting my growth. I was hiding away, though I no longer knew what I was afraid of.

I was already living authentically, embodying the qualities that define me. This isn't to suggest that using a pseudonym is inherently false. However, by this point, my online persona and my real-life identity had become one. It was time for a change.

So here I am, striving to be as genuine as possible, finally embracing my true name.

To everyone who has taken a moment of their day to engage with my writing:

Thank you for welcoming my words into your space.

A short essay discussing the significance of home in writing and personal expression.

Chapter 2: The Beauty of Home in Writing

A concise reflection on the essence of a beautiful home and its connection to personal narratives in writing.