FROM SCRIBBLES TO STRENGTH: HOW WRITING BECAME MY UNEXPECTED LIFELINE

The Blog I Never Meant to Write

Nearly four years ago, I sat down in front of my screen and wrote down a few thoughts. I wasn’t planning to start a blog as such. In fact, I told myself, “I’ll just write one or two posts, get a few things off my chest.” That was it. Simple. No pressure. I had some thoughts, a little anxiety, and a lot of emotion.

But here I am, a few later, still writing. Not because I have to. But because it saved me. This blog (and my podcast) has become more than an outlet, it’s a mirror, a release, and at times, a lifeline. Writing wasn’t the plan. Healing wasn’t either. But both found me.

 “I’m Not a Writer”, And That’s Okay

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I’m not a writer. I didn’t study journalism. I used to write ghost stories as a kid but I never had the dreams of being a proper writer. But that day four years ago I decided to write a blog called ‘How I Use Sport As An Escapism’. I just started typing because my mind felt heavy, and my heart felt even heavier. Anxiety had its grip on me, and I needed a way to breathe.

Turns out, writing/blogging/journaling, whatever you want to call it, and even if it was digital, helped me do just that. Getting thoughts out of your head and onto the page or screen can be one of the most powerful things you’ll ever do. You don’t need to be a writer. You just need to be honest with yourself.

Writing Is Cathartic

There’s a strange peace that comes from letting words flow. No filter. No judgement. No shame. Just you, your truth, and a keyboard. Writing became my way of processing my thoughts and feelings. Sometimes, I didn’t even know what I felt until I saw it typed out in front of me.

It’s not always pretty. It’s rarely polished. But it’s real. And in a world that so often demands perfection, there’s something healing about just being raw on the page. Each blog post became a small way of pushing back against the pressure to pretend I was okay.

From Vulnerability to Validation

When I started sharing my story, I didn’t want to be called brave. I didn’t feel brave. I felt broken, confused, and tired. But I knew I wasn’t alone. I’d read enough stories, heard enough whispers from friends, and seen enough cracks behind the smiles to know that we all carry something.

So I started writing about my anxiety, body image, disordered eating habits, depression, shame. And slowly, others reached out. They said, “I feel that too.” It was a moment of mutual recognition. Being vulnerable sharing your story opens doors you didn’t know existed, doors to connection, to comfort, to acceptance in yourself and feeling part of a community which I had never felt before.

The Stigma of Being a Man

Let’s not dance around it. There’s still stigma being a man and talking openly about body image and mental health in general. Especially when it involves topics like body dysmorphia, disordered eating, or emotional pain. We’re taught to be strong, stoic, silent. And if you deviate, you risk being labelled weak.

That’s why writing this blog has mattered so much. It’s given me a platform to challenge those outdated beliefs. Vulnerability isn’t weakness. It’s one of the strongest things a man can show. And every time I write, I reclaim that truth a little more.

Unexpected Healing, One Word at a Time

Healing isn’t a straight line. It’s not always therapy sessions and big breakthroughs. Sometimes it’s just sitting with your feelings long enough to understand them. That’s what writing did for me, it gave me space. No interruptions. No judgments. Just space.

And with that space came clarity. Writing became less about writing for others and more about listening to myself. I began to notice patterns in my thoughts. I recognised what triggered my anxiety. I could process my thoughts and feelings instead of drowning in them. That’s when the real healing began.

A Sense of Achievement

Let’s be honest, living with mental health struggles can make even the smallest victories feel enormous. So when I look back and see nearly four years of blogs (not all mine), it gives me a sense of achievement that’s hard to put into words. I didn’t just survive, I documented the process.

Each post is a milestone. Each paragraph is a step forward. And every time someone tells me that my words helped them feel seen or heard, it reminds me that this path I never planned to walk was absolutely the right one.

Writing Gave Me a Voice

Before this blog, I rarely spoke about how I felt. I bottled everything up, convinced no one would understand or even care. But something shifts when you write. You find your voice. You learn how to articulate things you once thought were unspeakable.

And the more I wrote, the more confident I became. Not just in writing, but in speaking, living, and showing up authentically. It’s wild how something so simple, typing out a blog, can ripple into every area of your life. But it does. It absolutely does.

Looking Back, Moving Forward

I never imagined that one small act of journaling would turn into a website, a podcast, and a community. I didn’t know writing would help me find acceptance in myself or become a way to get thoughts out of my head and onto the page. I had no idea it would be so cathartic, so connecting, so transformational.

But here we are. And if you’re reading this, maybe it’s your sign to start. You don’t need to write perfectly. You don’t even need to call yourself a writer. You just need to be willing to be real. That’s where the healing begins.

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