I am writing again

I’m Writing Again

When I was in grad school, the biggest critique I received—from both students and professors—was that I “talked the way I wrote” and “wrote the way I talked.” And they didn’t mean it as a compliment.

It seemed like a simple critique at the time. I truly don’t believe anyone meant harm. But what no one realized—including me—was just how deeply it would impact me. Looking back, that single comment was more impactful than almost anything else I remember from that season.

I was told my writing wasn’t “academic enough.” That it didn’t sound “professional.” Even in Christian spaces—where we were learning to share the gospel with all people—I was encouraged to polish my voice, to make it sound more proper, more refined, more... something else.

And it hurt.

So I stopped writing my blog. I started feeling anxious every time I picked up a pen. Shame crept in, whispering that no matter what I wrote, it would never be good enough.

What they didn’t know is that I’ve always had challenges with grammar—not because I don’t care, but because of how my brain works. ADHD means I don’t always catch the errors. My mind moves quickly. Sometimes it sees what should be there, not what actually is. I can reread something ten times and still miss the obvious—because my brain auto-corrects it before I even realize there’s something to fix.

Over time, I started to believe my effort wasn’t enough. That my ordinary voice—the one that speaks from the heart—wasn’t welcome in the places I longed to grow.

So I went silent. I let the criticism speak louder than my calling.

But recently, I’ve been fighting to take it back. Writing because I love it.

I’ve worked hard to recover what was lost—what was almost silenced—by people who may have meant well, but didn’t fully understand the weight of their words.

I’m done trying to sound perfect.

I’m done editing my voice to fit someone else’s version of “good enough.”

So here I am.

I will write the way I talk.

I will speak to you like a friend.

Yes, I’ll make grammar mistakes. I might miss a few things.

But I will keep writing anyway—because my voice still matters.

If that bothers you, feel free to scroll past.

But if you’ve ever felt like your voice wasn’t “smart enough” or “clean enough” to be shared—

I see you.

We were never meant to be perfect.

We were meant to be real.

And I’m writing again.