Why I Opened the Door
September 29, 2026
There is a quote by Anaïs Nin that has stayed with me:
“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”
For a long time, I wrote without thinking much about what would happen to the words afterward.
I wrote because something in me needed to write.
A thought would become a reflection.
A memory would become a story.
A feeling would become a poem.
And sometimes, the poem would become a song.
They came in different forms, but they seemed to come from the same place.
For a long time, I was content to let them remain there.
With me.
There is a certain safety in keeping something you love close to you.
No one can misunderstand it.
No one can reject it.
No one can tell you that something which came from somewhere deep inside you wasn’t worth sharing.
But safety has a cost, too.
Because eventually I began to wonder what happens to something that was meant to be given away if we never let it leave our hands.
A story cannot reach another person if it is never told.
A song cannot find another heart if it is never heard.
A light cannot help someone find their way if we keep it hidden.
And somewhere along the way, the question changed.
It was no longer:
What if I share this?
It became:
What if I don’t?
Maybe that is what blossoming really asks of us.
Not that we stop being afraid.
Not that we know what will happen once we open.
Only that there comes a time when remaining closed no longer feels like the safer choice.
So I began opening the door.
First a little.
Then a little more.
A reflection.
A story.
A song.
A piece of myself placed gently into the world.
I don’t know where all of this will lead.
Maybe I don’t need to.
A flower does not need to know who will see it bloom.
It simply reaches the moment when it can no longer remain a bud.
Perhaps we do, too.
And perhaps becoming isn’t always about becoming someone new.
Sometimes, it is simply allowing more of who we have always been
to finally step into the light.