With every essay I write, there are joy and pride swelling. I let my ideas out. Words give a body to these flowing thoughts. People read them and stop to think.

A nudge from within comes, "What about visualising whatever you write? What if you post it on Instagram and let more people in?" This idea is yet another can of worms I have to open.

You see, I love Instagram. I can express myself in stories and reach people – whoever wants to listen. Idyllic, isn't it? Well, unless you forego internal questions of "what would people think", the path as a creator is murky.

I open Instagram. I see the brilliant creators who build their worlds and businesses, let alone speak up. Their ideas, their thoughts – in a quest to chase their curiosity. My internal sparks lights up.

(It would be a boring story if everything worked out immediately. The first content piece you post goes viral and brings you the loyalest audience. Actually, it happened to me once – and let me tell you: Going viral is not a happy end story.)

Yet, that deceitful anxious mind politely says, "Hey, you want to post it on your Instagram, right? I applaud you. To disregard what you school class mates think of you, or friends from ages ago – wow, you're so brave. Also, amidst the war waged against your country? I'm in awe." Thanks, I guess.

The first time I heard it, I pursed my lips and created another, "professional" account. That voice made sense. With boundaries in place, at last, I dodged the bullet and now I can create whatever my heart desires! Right?

Well, not really. Now, what if more knowledgeable people discover my content and deem me dumb? What if people hate my personality? What if, what if...

So, how did I dodge this bullet? I disappeared. I took a break to prepare better, to come back in my full glory, with a plan to defeat ANY fear thrown my way.

Spoiler: I haven't come back. After all this time, there's no feeling of "readiness" that hugs me and cheers, "You can do it!" Instead, I'm still here, polishing my content to perfection.

I hope one day I'll laugh about my worries, pat my Past Self on her head, and call her sweet.

(Obviously, I'll have some other worries plaguing my mind but who cares? For Present Self, the biggest worry is here and now. That bridge? I'll cross it when I get there.)

My question to you, Present Self: Will you allow others to dictate how to live your dreams? Will you allow the version of your made up by others – bystanders of your life – to annihilate who you are now?

No.

Because this desire to express myself as I am is stronger than any dark weeds of fear that pull me down. I will say that thought. I will create wherever I want. I won't dodge anything but meet it head-on.

This garden is waking up. Trust me, you haven't seen such lovely blooms before.