A raw reflection on presence, overthinking, and the quiet power of unfiltered pages

Here I go, trying something new and crossing my fingers so it won’t get deleted. I’m writing directly into Medium’s draft editor — it’s the clearest platform I have available right now. So, here we go. At this point, whatever gets onto the page is good.

I’m not just writing to write. I’m writing to remember how to let go — something I’ve forgotten in the rush of everyday control.

I’ve had a headache since waking up at 3 a.m., and now it’s 9:00. I’m sitting here, post-creation of my 100-day project — which is always satisfying to check off the list.

Still, I’m wondering if my posture while typing is what’s hurting my arm. I adjust my ergonomic chair — down a notch to see if that helps. But I despise the way my wrists bend when I type. It throws off the rhythm. So I raise my chair again, hoping for a better angle. There’s a small shift. A spark. A sense of flow returns — unexpected, but welcome.

That’s the thing about presence. It lives in the body, too.

The posture is better, sure. But I catch myself staring at the screen. Every misspelled word tempts me to stop and fix it, but I don’t dare. I’m on a roll. Full speed ahead.

This is the game of writing. It’s not about planning — not in this stage. Sorry to all those who live by structure and formats. Yes, that will come later when it’s time to edit.

But for now, writing is about showing up. It’s about practice. It’s about speaking your truth — which you don’t even know until the pen hits the page, or words start forming on the screen.

This kind of writing is creativity. It’s one of the most raw and honest ways I get to explore my inner landscape, see what I’m thinking, and share it — if I choose.

It’s therapeutic.
 It’s movement.
 It’s stillness.
 It’s a presence practice.

Once you’re in flow, you stop overthinking. You stop obsessing over where it’s going. You just go.
 Moment by moment. Word by word. Unfolding.

Even now, I can feel the urge to stop — to check if it’s “going anywhere” — but I remind myself: stay on the track of creativity, of curiosity.

Trying to control the outcome isn’t presence.
 It’s fear.

Surrender as a Practice, Not a Concept

Back to surrender. For someone who overthinks, predicts, and tries to hold everything together, letting go isn’t easy. Years of journaling and repeating the same affirmations: I allow, accept, and surrender to what is. I keep repeating them until they land. Until I believe them. Because letting go isn’t a one-time thing. It’s a practice.

Today, I’ve been reflecting a lot on surrender. Why it’s been so hard for me over the years to really let go. The answer? I’m an overthinking control freak. I’ve always done everything I could to make sure nothing bad happens. But “bad” is just a label, a judgment.

Life doesn’t follow labels. Things morph. One moment leads into the next. What you once feared might become the thing that saves you. What felt like an end turns out to be a beginning.

There’s a natural metamorphosis happening in every unfolding moment. We never know where the story ends — or even if there is an end.

So I keep coming back.
 To presence.
 To peace.
 To observation.

Witness the moment as it is.

From that place of stillness, a deeper clarity arises. The next step is determined — not from panic or force, but from knowing. That’s where aligned decisions come from. Not from grasping, but from grounded truth.

If you think freewriting or stream-of-consciousness writing is too woo-woo, I say this with love: there’s more to it than meets the eye. The truth does come through. And yes, it sets you free.

It’s not about writing something “worthy.” It’s about releasing. Cleansing the clutter in your mind. Sorting through the unnecessary. And then — right there on the page — clarity comes. Insight comes.

You just have to show up for it.

What lands on the page is the fruit of your labor — but I wouldn’t even call it labor — it’s pure presence.

Let’s be honest, though — some days, the idea of sitting down to write can feel like a mountain.

Whether you’re journaling, planning to publish, or finally drafting a novel, I believe that this type of unfiltered writing — whatever you want to call it — is revolutionary for your growth.

This is what came through today.

If you’re feeling stuck, maybe try letting the words come unfiltered. Don’t plan. Don’t polish. Just witness what wants to be written.

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Want to explore these ideas further?

I’ve shared a follow-up piece with key takeaways, reflective questions, and a simple practice to help you bring these insights into your life.

t’s for free subscribers — you can Subscribe to my Substack — and read the full post here: link

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