Why I Write and Read (A personal reflection on healing, presence, and voice)

Writing is how I find my way back to myself.

When life gets loud, when my thoughts tangle or emotions swell beneath the surface, writing offers a way through. It gives form to the unspoken. It’s where I release what I’ve carried too long ~ grief, anger, trust, longing, love. Sometimes it’s messy. Sometimes it’s poetry. But always, it’s honest.

Writing clears space inside me. I begin with a question or a feeling, and often I end up somewhere unexpected ~ somewhere truer than where I began. It’s a mirror, a companion, a guide. It helps me hear the voice beneath the noise ~ the quiet, steady voice of my own truth.

Each time I write, I am claiming my story. On my terms. In my rhythm. It’s an act of agency, of healing, of remembering. Writing reminds me I am not invisible. I exist. I matter. And what I’ve lived ~ and how I live now ~ deserves to be witnessed, even if only by me.

And sometimes, I choose to share my words. When I do, something beautiful happens: what once felt private becomes connective. A bridge forms. My vulnerability might light someone else’s path. My raw truth might echo something in theirs. It’s not about being wise or polished. It’s about being real.

Reading, for me, is a kind of nourishment.

It feeds my mind and spirit in ways little else can. A poem, a book, a phrase ~ at just the right time ~ can change my whole day. I find myself in others’ words, and I also find parts of myself I didn’t know I was missing.

Reading stretches me. It expands my imagination, deepens my empathy, and reminds me of the richness of being alive. It shows me how wide the human experience is ~ and how similar we all are at the core. It’s a comfort. It’s a challenge. It’s a spark.

Books are my quiet companions. They meet me wherever I am ~ soft or strong, confused or clear. They don’t ask anything of me except to show up with an open heart. In that way, they are grace in paper form.

For me, writing and reading belong together. They’re two parts of the same sacred rhythm.

Reading is how I inhale ~ how I receive insight, beauty, depth.

Writing is how I exhale ~ how I process, release, and respond.

Together, they keep me balanced and grounded. They keep me awake to my own unfolding.

Through them, I stay in conversation with life.

I read to remember. I write to heal.

And through both, I keep becoming more of who I truly am.

Author note:

I wrote this as a quiet reminder to myself of why my voice matters ~ and why the voices of others do, too. Words are how I find my way. Thank you for reading mine.

~ Kathi