If I’m Honest
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what I want to do next with my life. There are things that have been going better. I’m almost finished with grad school, and I finally have a career.
I still feel like I’ve been betraying my calling by stopping my writing.
If I’m honest, this has very little to do with a lack of time. It has a lot to do with my perfectionism. Perfectionism that is the opposite of experimenting. Perfectionism that is another word for the anxiety of not being good enough. And if I’m not good enough, then I’ll be rejected. So, really this, as my therapist says, is my fear of disconnection.
I also stopped writing because I felt like I was part of a content mill. Produce. produce. produce. When I wrote with that goal, my writing devolved into something for other people to like and validate. It wasn’t for me anymore. When that happened, I could see the quality fade away.
I don’t know if I’ll start writing on here more often. This platform triggered addictive behavior for abysmal gain. I don’t want to return to that headspace. But I miss writing, so I’ll try to engage with the act differently.
