It always happens. I keep checking, rechecking and hesitate to hit the publish button. Does it happen to anyone else?
I don’t know why. It should be simple, just one click, and it goes live, out to the world. Otherwise, I’ll keep writing or… just leave it unpublished, unseen, unread by anyone but myself. It never feels casual, especially when the piece of writing I am sharing is something I struggle with. It feels like it holds pieces of me that most people in my real life have never seen. Those sentences feel more like a mirror. That’s why sharing my work often feels like sharing my soul. Thoughts I have carried for weeks or even years, that kept battling inside of me. Would it be better to remain hidden? Is it ready? Or maybe, just maybe, I am not.
Should I keep writing to delay the decision?
Sharing feels like exposure, the deeper deep. It reveals how I think, what I fear, my challenges, what I long for, and what I’m trying to understand. It seems easier to read my own mind than to type things out and share them. To this day, it still scares me.
The Hidden Layers Behind the Work
It took me more than 7, sometimes 10 hours, the courage, the doubts, that I nearly abandoned the whole idea of writing halfway through. Because it felt… never simple. Maybe you know that feeling too, the weight of wanting to get it just right. What I shared is not superficial or just a random update. I might be sharing a story, a reflection, a thought. But underneath?
There is a memory I haven’t fully healed from the past. Challenges that I am facing. An enemy that whispers not in the dark but at times unnoticed, when I am least paying attention. Beliefs I’m still testing, like pressing on a bruise to see if it still hurts. Something I once held as truth could now be uncertain, making me wonder if it still fits.
If it doesn’t fit anymore, do I let it go? Or do I keep trying to squeeze myself into it? Just because it seems familiar. It hurts, to be honest; comfort feels fleeting. To someone else, this blog post could be a normal blog from a normal person. Inside of it?
Hours trying to squeeze in more time, forcing myself to keep going, the energy I didn’t think I had, drafts that were almost deleted because they felt too much, or not enough, or did not make sense at all. The times when I feel like I’m wasting time, especially when I rush and finish other work, get ready for this, and meet with the blank white screen of death. Late nights whispering, “One more, one more, one more, one more. Just one… more.” And fears that almost won. The final product might look clean, but the process rarely is. And if you’ve ever been through a process like that, you know it’s not just about finishing; it’s about being brave enough to start and stay, with or without the flow.
Dig, Recognise, & Why?
Creating anything that exposes vulnerability requires a certain level of excavation. You have to go digging into your psyche, your patterns, your past, something masked by the noise of daily life. And into the things you did not think you were ready to face. Sometimes what you find surprises you; something that needs your attention.
There have been times I have started writing about something simple: a walk I took, a spark of a tiny idea or phrase that crossed my mind when I least expected it. I always remind myself not to rely on my memory and instead write it down. Or sometimes, thoughts come when I am on my bed, where I have two options: take the risk and go to sleep hoping I can recall them once I’m awake, or be awakened to write them down before they vanish 7-8 hours later… spppshh, faded away, piece by piece, like a speck of iron dust after Endgame.
Some days, I feel like a contradiction. Actions that don’t always match what I have shared. I say I share about slowing down, and remind myself to slow down, but I write like I am racing. There is an invisible pressure, maybe I feel I’m running out of time, fear, expectation, or sometimes the day never comes tomorrow, which pushes me to express myself quickly.
Most of the time, what I write here doesn’t give any value or sense or is not self-help. I hope someone out there silently resonates, sees themselves in my words here, and feels less alone. I continue in case someone out there whispers, “Me too,” that what I wrote mattered to someone. I write from my heart, hoping this post will find people who need them, even though it seems like I’m the only one here writing behind the screen, in a world full of noise. If these words find your heart, I wrote them for you. 🙂
It still matters and is never wasted, even if it helps one person. Even if you don’t reply, I see you. Some days I don’t feel wise enough to write, but I do it anyway, just in case someone feels a little less alone. If you are still here reading this, maybe we have both been looking for the same kind of quiet truths.
If you read more of my posts here @ GSYeoh.com, writing and sharing my thoughts here made me realise that writing is not just a creative process; it’s an extension of myself. I never imagined I would start writing. On busy days, I won’t notice until I sit down thinking I am writing something simple or just surface-level. Some are just ‘quiet’ words wrapped in metaphors. But as I keep going buried emotions, unresolved memories, or hidden truths start surfacing, things I had not consciously acknowledged before. That’s why sharing it feels vulnerable. Once I realised how deeply personal the writing actually is, hitting the publish button or letting others read it felt like exposing a raw part of myself. Others might not judge it. Sometimes I am still processing it, and I do not realise the words are staring back at me with the truth I was trying to avoid or hide. When I started writing, I did not realise how deeply revealing it would become. The final work always surprises me because I did not set out to be vulnerable. Still, in the process of expressing, the writing uncovers feelings, memories, or truths I had not consciously planned to explore. The finished work then is not just words; it’s part of me, lived experience, thoughts, like I have poured parts of me onto the page. And then, sharing becomes a personal risk because it reveals something about myself. So hitting the top right button requires a significant act of courage because it asks: Am I ready for people to see this messy part of me?
A Reminder To Self
Every time I write, it feels like I am stitching myself back together, the messy, raw, or unfinished parts of me. It feels therapeutic. Maybe this is what we are here for: not to silence the noise, but to mirror. And if you are holding back something, maybe today is the day you give it permission to be seen, even if there is no one out there. Because you may not know someone needs to hear this: the fear of judgment, the courage to release our work, ideas, sentences, phrases, unfinished thoughts, word by word. It doesn’t have to be perfect. Work that may not resonate with everyone but with the right people at the right moment. It takes a lot of my energy and time; sometimes I feel exhausted. The beauty of it is helping someone feel less alone, to remind us we are not alone. For all these reasons, keep writing, and keep sharing. Even when it scares you, and it does. Because it is worth everything.
If you ever feel stuck or overwhelmed by your own creative process, try going for a walk. Some of my clearest thoughts have arrived mid-step, not mid-sentence. The movement makes space for clarity. And maybe, just maybe, we don’t always need to rush the words. Sometimes, we need to walk with them a little longer.
If this post resonated with you if you have ever felt the quiet ache of wanting to share something honest but hesitated, I invite you to stay connected. I will be sharing more quiet reflections like this on my YouTube channel, for the days when words feel too heavy to read and you would rather feel. You can also subscribe to my newsletter if you’d like these quiet, personal notes delivered straight to your inbox. No noise. Just soul. Just like this.
🎥 Subscribe to the YouTube channel here
Let’s stay in touch.
Update 17/6/2025 : You may like reading this Depth of Field on the Board : Why Every Piece Has Its Place’, asks us to focus even if others don’t see the full piece.
