Writing
I don’t know if anyone will relate to this. I’m not sure if this will make sense or if it’s totally specific to me.
But, it’s the truest & most important thing on my mind and in my life right now, so here it goes anyway.
I remember when I first found writing. I remember when I first found sharing my writing. And really, I guess I remember when I first started to realize that I loved connecting with others, talking about life and hopes and dreams, inspiring others to go after those dreams — when I first realized what felt like my purpose in life.
I remember how amazing it felt. I wrote nearly daily — I was addicted to getting pen to paper to flush out my thoughts and the thoughts of others in my life. Sharing to connect with others felt so right — so innate.
I was so proud of who I was. Someone simple that doesn’t sweat the small stuff and enjoys the moment, while also someone able to talk about the deeper things in life to inspire others — to inspire herself.
I loved that side of me — I loved all of me. I wrote, and I shared, and I pitched. My writing was published in my University’s newspaper and in larger publications online. I never thought twice about what people thought or if I was “too much” as a deep, somewhat vulnerable, thinker at times.
Over time, though, I began facing things and going through things in my life that were a bit harder for me to handle. Internally, I struggled for a few years. And when I struggled, I wrote. I wrote about the thoughts I was having a hard time to control. I wrote about what it felt like to go through the harder things I was going through. I wrote about what it felt like to be lost and, at times, seemingly alone.
I wrote, and I shared. I shared because it made me feel less alone. I shared because, every once and awhile, I was able to help someone else.
But as I shared, I began to realize that people were wondering if I was alright. They thought (or maybe they didn’t and I made it up in my head as I grew more insecure about where I was in life) that I was an overthinker, someone lost, someone “finding her way”. I grew to assume that others thought there was something wrong with me as I shared my writing.
As I grew out of those few years of struggles and into the woman I am today, I stopped writing so much as I found myself not needing to write out my feelings as much and not needing to make sense of so many things. I took a bit of a break altogether as I put myself back together and found my way once again.
When I found it again a bit later in life, I started writing, not from a place of pure confusion and desperation, but from a place of (hopefully) inspiration and positivity. From a place of deep thinking, yes, but also of just enjoying conversations and talking about life.
I returned to who I was when I first found writing. Someone who loves connecting with others, talking about life and hopes and dreams, inspiring others to go after those dreams — someone aligned with their purpose in life.
Yet, as I began to write again, I felt myself holding back. To this day, before I share every post I do, I ask my sister if it’s “too much” first. To this day, when people ask me about my life and if I’m writing, I say “oh yeah, my stupid blog stuff”. While I want to pursue my writing and blog more than anything in the world, I also don’t accept that part of me. I don’t love the fact that I am a deep thinker and like to share my thoughts to connect with others. I see it as something wrong, rather than something right.
I fear that I am “too much”. I fear that people think because I share that I am not doing well or think too much or need validation or insert any of the above. And truthfully, sometimes I do share because I’m struggling a bit. Sometimes maybe I do want some validation (who doesn’t). But at the core of what I do, I am trying to connect with and inspire others through my own experiences and voice. That is what I want to do with my life. And that is who I am.
By moving away from my purpose and holding myself back, I made myself feel lost. It’s funny really, that by attempting to appear “not lost” by not sharing my writing and thoughts, I was actually becoming the most lost of all as I steered clear of my true purpose and dream. And as I steered clear, I grasped at other things to feel like I had a direction. I tried to focus on (and then failed) at perfect fitness plans and food plans and financial plans while my true purpose and passion sat still and untouched — deserted. I tried to focus on these things to feel in control and purposeful. And while I enjoy these things, they are not my purpose in life, they are simply things I like to do that make me feel good about who I am.
Maybe it’s time to quit ignoring that innate calling I have. Maybe it’s time to quit judging myself for it. Maybe it’s time to quit assuming others are, too.
Maybe it’s time to step into what I want and who I am.
Maybe then the other areas of my life will fall into place, too.
Maybe it’s time to quit ignoring who I am, to quit putting pressure on myself to feel like I have a purpose and just do the thing that feels right.
To write.