As a writer, I’m always thinking of the ways I can put my life on paper, whether it’s through a city guide for a travel website, an article on a business with a mission that inspires me, a personal essay for a lifestyle publication or a post for this blog.

I haven’t always been good at this but as writing transitions into actually being a career for me, I find myself researching destinations before I travel just looking for that perfect angle I can pitch, the story that hasn’t been told a hundred times before. I have an on-going file on my phone and take notes during tours, along with a photo every six seconds. I’m the annoying friend that insists on taking photos of everyone’s dinner before they can touch it, in case I decide to cover that restaurant in a post on my blog and if we’re exploring together, I’ll probably ask you to take a few photos of me.

I love it. I love sharing my experiences and often find myself going out of my comfort zone because I know I will be writing about it. I love reliving a trip and remembering the best moments as I write about them for this blog.

But lately there have been a few instances where I’ve done all of those things, sat down to write…and couldn’t get a single word out. There was one place in particular that I thought would lead to new publications and help move my career forward and I still believe it could but when I look at my list of story angles and smile as I scroll through the 2952819 photos I took, I can’t bring myself to write.

I’ve finally accepted that the truth is that these places (okay, place) and experiences have had such an impact on me that I just really don’t want to share them. They’re destinations mostly untouched by tourists, full of culture and, for me, love and I haven’t figured out a way I can write about a culture I’m still learning about without disrespecting the people there.

I thought about writing my personal experience, sharing how, why, I was so impacted. Sharing just a bit about the people who changed the course of my life for the better the second I was welcomed into their community. I have no problem being open on this blog. I’ve talked about depression and work to maintain a level of honesty across the board, to share things I probably wouldn’t if we met in person for a coffee.

But, still, somehow, when it comes to telling you the who, when, and how of these few places and people that have changed my life, I can’t. I can’t give you the details or the names or the locations. I can’t put into words how good it felt to find myself on a bus for an unexpected visit or how just being in this place, around these people makes my heart swell with love and gratitude in a way it never has before.

Maybe these words exist but for now, I’m going to stop trying to find them. We live in a world of oversharing but there are some things that remain most sacred without explanation .

Do you have a place you don’t share? Tell me why in the comments!