I used to think writing had to have a clear purpose — a book, an article, a story with a beginning and an end. Today I know that writing is something much more personal. It’s a space where I can breathe, where words help me release what’s inside, let go of what weighs me down, and embrace what brings me joy.
When I write, there is no filters, no masks. Just me and who I am in that moment. Sometimes it’s joy, sometimes exhaustion, sometimes insecurity. And in that honesty lies a liberating power — as if the page whispers: “You can be vulnerable here, you are safe.”
Writing has become my way of talking to myself. Of recognizing the voices of my thoughts in silence, not sweeping them under the rug but looking them straight in the eye. And every time I write down something that hurts or scares me, I feel relief. As if a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.
But writing has also brought me something even more precious — connection. When I first shared my words publicly, I felt fear: what will people think, am I being too open, have I said what “shouldn’t be said out loud”? And then I realized that vulnerability itself builds bridges. That in my story, someone else recognizes their own. And in that recognition, closeness is born.
Writing has changed me. It has taught me to listen to myself, to be gentler with my feelings, and not to fear showing weakness. Because weakness is not the opposite of strength — weakness is a way of showing our humanity.
So today I write not to be a “perfect author,” but to be honest. To leave myself traces of who I was and how I grew. And perhaps to give comfort to someone who reads, reminding them that they too can be vulnerable — and that it is more than enough.
Writing, for me, is not a hobby. It’s therapy, a refuge, and a reminder that the bravest thing we can do is simply — to be ourselves.
Give yourself a chance — turn your thoughts into words and release what’s in your heart. Who knows, your words might reach someone in ways you can’t imagine.
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Pisanje kao terapija: hrabrost da se pokaĹľu ranjivosti
Nekada sam mislila da pisanje mora da ima jasan cilj — knjiga, članak, priča sa početkom i krajem. Danas znam da je pisanje i nešto mnogo ličnije. To je prostor u kome mogu da dišem, u kome mi reči pomažu da oslobodim ono što stoji u meni, da pustim ono što me pritiska i da zagrlim ono što me raduje.
Kad pišem, nema filtera, nema maski. Samo ja i ono što jesam tog dana, tog trenutka. Nekada je to radost, nekada umor, nekada nesigurnost. A baš u toj iskrenosti leži oslobađajuća snaga — kao da mi papir šapuće: “Možeš da budeš ranjiva, ovde si sigurna.”
Pisanje je postalo moj način da razgovaram sama sa sobom. Da u tišini prepoznam glasove svojih misli, da ih ne guram pod tepih već da ih pogledam u oči. I svaki put kad napišem nešto što me boli ili plaši, osetim olakšanje. Kao da sam skinula teret sa ramena.
Ali pisanje mi je donelo i nešto još vrednije — povezivanje. Kada sam prvi put podelila svoje reči javno, osećala sam strah: šta će ljudi misliti, da li sam previše otvorena, da li sam rekla ono što se “ne govori naglas”? A onda sam shvatila da baš ta ranjivost gradi mostove. Da u mojoj priči neko prepoznaje i svoju. I da se u tom prepoznavanju rađa bliskost.
Pisanje me je promenilo. Naučilo me je da slušam sebe, da budem nežnija prema svojim osećanjima, da se ne plašim da pokažem slabost. Jer slabost nije suprotnost snazi — slabost je način da se pokaže ljudskost.
Zato danas pišem ne da bih bila “savršen autor”, već da bih bila iskrena. Da bih sebi ostavila tragove o tome ko sam bila i kako sam rasla. I da bih možda nekome ko čita pružila utehu da i on može da bude ranjiv — i da je to sasvim dovoljno.
Pisanje za mene nije hobi. To je terapija, utočište i podsećanje da je najhrabrije što možemo da uradimo zapravo — da budemo svoji.
Zato probajte, pretvorite svoje emocije u reči, zapišite ih i hrabro ih podelite — jer ko zna, možda će upravo vaše reči nekome promeniti dan.
Tanja's diary 🧚🏻‍♂️ 