I have been sitting with my anxiety and feelings of guilt, shame, and of being judged. Because writing like this lately, about things so deeply personal has left me feeling exposed. Me, the secretive, very personal one. I am trying not to push the anxiety away nor will I let myself run with it. I am watching it.
Questions pop up. Have I hurt someone? Have I used the story for my own benefit? Why am I writing these posts? Why am I sharing the story? For whom?
I wonder if every time an artist puts themselves “out there” they are faced with these anxieties. The artist who paints with all her heart, her pain, her joy, all mixed into the colors. What happens when that piece is exposed, for all to see, to applaud, to criticize, to question? Does she feel ripped apart, raw, naked?
I want to curl up into a little ball, and yet I am also free of the grips the stories has over me. I stand tall.
I want to write from that place. I try to express from a loving space. The grounding comes when there is some distance from the story I suppose.
The uneasiness I feel must mean in this case that I have said something worth saying. I want to continue, but with a clearer insight of why I do it.
I am writing because I like to express myself. At this moment in time it is in the form or writing.
I am writing because it helps me sort through my thoughts, feelings, and behavior.
I am writing because one day my children will read this blog and have some insight into our stories.
I am writing to thank my family and friends for holding me up, for supporting me and loving me so dearly all these years. So much so I am overwhelmed.
I am writing and sharing to give permission to my family and friends to speak up too. (At least I like to think that)
I am intrigued by personal stories, sometimes challenging to share and yet they connect us to each other, they draw out our empathy.
But most importantly it is so that I can channel my thoughts and ideas, create something for myself and to share with others if it interests them.
I needed to articulate these reasons. So I can continue. So I know why. So I feel connected to myself.
Natasha Devalia 
Dear Natasha.
Sharing what you do connects and it creates empathy. I feel I know a bit more about you after having read what you wrote. I see nothing bad about that. To the contrary. My mother wrote a book about herself upon my request. It took her 10 years after she left my father to finish the book. It was necessary for her to get it out and done with. It did her a lot of good. It was like a cleansing process. If you feel good about writing, then just do it. I enjoy reading about your life. And I am looking forward to talking to you in person. Until then, don’t question yourself. Just do it. Your reference to how an artist feels is correct.
Big hug john
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Yes! Thank you. Very interesting about your mum. Thanks for sharing that story with me. Look forward to meeting again soon in person too. Best wishes.
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Thank you for sharing ! Reading your experiences and thoughts makes me feel human, that it is okay to feel what i feel. that we are all connected and we are almost all similar to each other.
By the way i found you by chance on this blog, i have taken an intensive course of indian dance at LAU in Lebanon around 2004-2005. and at my young age you had inspired me so much.
The divine in me sees the divine in you
Sarine
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Wow Sarine! Thank you so much for taking the time to comment. Yes I also feel like it’s ok to feel what I feel when I read other’s personal stories and empathize somehow. Hope you are well. What a wonderful surprise to hear from someone who was at that workshop and remembers it, at LAU all those years ago! Best wishes,
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