How daily writing keeps me upright when the world tilts

and how I invite you to try it out too.

This morning, before the kettle had even thought about boiling, I opened my notebook and let the pen stumble across the page. I didn’t wait for poetic sentences or grand insights, I just traced the mess in my mind until it started looking a little less like a thorn bush and a little more like the old beaten path. By the time the water finally wheezed into a boil, my shoulders had dropped, my breath slowed and I could see daylight in a place that had felt claustrophobic only minutes earlier.

If you’ve been feeling the collective weight of all of this (me gesturing broadly at the relentless news cycle, the bills breeding like rabbits on the kitchen counter, the endless scroll that somehow leaves us lonelier than before), know this: you’re not alone and you’re not powerless. You own a tool more potent than any algorithm: your pen (or keyboard or crumpled receipt and borrowed eyebrow pencil; I don’t judge).

Why I write every day, especially when life feels heavy

1. To empty the overflowing cup. Thoughts swirl like toddlers on a sugar rush. Getting them onto paper is the equivalent of sending them outside to run laps and suddenly the house is quiet enough to think.

2. To meet myself where I actually am. The page is painfully honest. Some days I arrive victorious; other days I show up wearing yesterday’s mascara and borrowed courage. Either way, the page nods, scoots over and says, Sit. Tell me everything.

3. To spot the glimmers hiding in the gray. When I reread yesterday’s scribbles, I see tiny fireworks I missed in real time: the neighbor’s shy wave, the joke my son cracked at breakfast, the elevator song that made my hips twitch. Writing pins the moments before they flutter away.

4. To build a bridge to you. Words connect us long before we share the same room. Every time I share a piece of my messy truth, someone writes back, “Me too.” And suddenly the world feels a little less intimidating.

But what if the words won’t come?

Start small. I often begin with the most ordinary sentence I can muster: I can hear the dishwasher humming or even I have no idea what to write about today so… . Somehow a single, unimpressive line coaxes the rest out of hiding.

Write badly on purpose. Perfection is the quickest way to silence a story. Dare to write the ugliest paragraph in human history. Then watch how freeing it feels.

Set a timer for five minutes. Promise yourself you can stop when it dings. Spoiler: most days you’ll keep going because momentum breeds appetite.

An open invitation

If your own notebook has been gathering dust or if you’ve never owned one, then consider this your gentle nudge. Inside Subscribrary’s Daily Writing I post prompts, nudges, share inspirational video’s and the occasional loving kick in the pants to keep us all showing up, even on the days we’d rather hide under the duvet. It’s at the most affordable price I could go for here on Substack because I believe wholeheartedly that everyone deserves a safe place to unravel, reflect and rebuild - especially now.

So grab whatever writing instrument is nearest (yes, the eyeliner counts), pour yourself something warm and meet me on the page. Let’s steady ourselves together, one honest sentence at a time.

With ink-stained fingers and a heart that’s learning to be brave,

Much love
Mies