For the longest time, I’ve been avoiding from opening this blog because I’ve felt a sense of guilt for neglecting it and not prioritising it anymore. Despite blocking a day in my calendar to writing, I turned to reading instead or even if I’d write, I would in the end leave it as it is without publishing it.
But after over 20 drafts and waiting for a perfect piece to be published, I surrendered. I decided to write today out of the blue (not really, just because I’ve finished reading the 5th book this year and I’ve got something that I need to let out). I’ve realised that the only reason would read a piece or something is because they feel connected to it. And when you are connected to something, that means in essence, you love it.
Another thing that stopped me from writing consistently continuously was my fear to commit to it and wondering if I’d deliver as I had promised. Nobody ever likes the feeling to overpromise if you are a responsible and decent person. But it’s not that I didn’t write when I’ve set to write but I was too afraid that my writing is such a waste and you, if at this point is reading still reading this, means that I don’t feel like I am giving enough value.
However, sometimes, an unstructured writing like this may speak to certain people without even me trying. In the end of the day, you do something out of love. Last year, can you believe it when I’d say I cried a day (lol) because I missed writing but I felt so paralysed from doing so because I didn’t know whether what I’d write would be something that gives value to a person’s time. Then again, who I am to say if I am giving value to a person’s time or not?
Anyway, with all these worries, I’ve been putting off from writing for the longest time. I mean I still write but for my personal use and reflections. However, there is still a pang of guilt, I am not going to lie, for neglecting my own need to express myself through my best method of expressing myself ie. writing AND making use of this medium to give something of value. And when you are not publishing anything in a long time, it does feel weird to still call yourself a writer.
But life just has a way to return yourself back to who you are. Something weird (at least to me it was) happened this week, a person was introducing me to another person and she had introduced me as a writer. I felt a part of me that I’ve hidden for the longest time had come out knocking itself out. People identify me as such, because that’s how I first started coming out.
I mean I write for work and all, but it’s different when you write from your own voice rather than it being just a part of a marketing strategy, you know?
And the only place that I still write actively is through Instagram, which feels effortless. I don’t understand why I feel the need to construct something more serious or structured here other than it being a part of my way to attract your attention to read this to the very end, and needing you to subscribe to my blog or enter your email and be a part of “my community”. My community as in an email list where I will give you more values and thoughts, or advise that you might not get anywhere else or even here.
Almost everyone is aware already that the best fully lived is one that makes an impact. I almost wanted to give up this website, domain and all because I needed to think strategically whether this blog is any useful for anyone anymore until I checked my insights (contains views and articles that people have been viewing) and you know what built my love back?
It is too know that people across the world have found their way to read an article that I wrote 2 years ago when I was still lost on unemployment, consistently until today. It is still the top rated article that I’ve written within this blog and I thought to myself, what was so special about it? I was energetic. It was new and I was still discovering a lot of things. I was trying a lot of things and it was exhilarating to know that my writing impacted someone until I felt like I wasn’t growing again.
That’s the thing about people like me. At the core, I am an inconsistent idealist but knowing this, I’ve submitted to this self and learned to find a way to be more realistic and practical. And 2019 was my year of learning to be consistent. Consistency may be easy for some people—to just live life with a routine. But for me, this isn’t how I am at best.
All in all, with regards to anything in life, you’ll always fall back to what you love doing—an activity, a place or things that reminds you of your core self—your child self. Everything starts with love. I refuse to live this life without putting my heart into everything that I do (and when I don’t put my heart into something, I know then something’s wrong with me).
I’ve been avoiding myself the past year—has its pros and cons—because I was just learning about a lot of things. But I think I really just want to come back. I don’t know how to yet without being exhausted of it. Feels good to write for a long time. Just need to readjust all of this and find my Hope this piece resonates with you in some way.
On my pursuit of being more practical, you can join my email list for a summary of what I’ve learnt from books that I’ve read by submitting your email below.