Journaling has been a constant in my life for as long as I can remember. It began as a way to document life events and evolved into a means of expressing thoughts and feelings I couldn’t share with others.
At one point, I found myself fabricating stories about myself, trying to be someone I wasn’t. While it started off okay, the difficulty of writing down my true thoughts and feelings became apparent over time. It felt like I was constantly wearing a mask, making it difficult to convey my true feelings and thoughts. I would not recommend doing that.
Journaling became a refuge when I felt like nobody else cared or could help. Writing allowed me to gain perspective on my thoughts, enabling me to evaluate their validity. The act of putting words on paper also served as a stress reliever.
Recently, I’ve noticed a decline in my notebook entries, possibly due to a busier schedule or a lack of noteworthy events. It’s plausible that I’ve been channelling my thoughts into this blog, fulfilling my writing needs here.
A significant shift occurred when I began publishing my blog. Suddenly, all my thoughts were out in the open, prompting me to carefully curate what I shared. Questions like “Am I sharing too much or too little?” and “Will I regret this?” became routine. Surprisingly, I didn’t regret it, and blogging brought numerous benefits.
The most notable change was in how I perceived my work. I no longer tied my self-worth to the results. Criticism didn’t feel like judgement; instead, it felt liberating, freeing me from the burden of others’ opinions. This was unexpected—I thought sharing my writing would make me more concerned about what others thought.
Blogging, surprisingly, made me care less about others’ opinions. While compliments and criticism still matter, I don’t need them as much. Knowing that people I care about read my work is sufficient. Initially, I was overly concerned, which paralysed me. However, after a break, I found my rhythm and started caring less.
I was thrilled to write authentically without trying to imitate someone else. It wasn’t about being perfect or better; it was about being myself. I started to feel like enough.
Somewhere along the journey, I realised that what I am and what I do are separate entities. As I wrote more, I cared less, extending that attitude to other creative pursuits like painting and coding. Accepting imperfection became crucial.
A strict schedule forced me to produce work, irrespective of its perceived quality. This shift in perspective allowed me to see writing as a task rather than a quest for perfection. Without the pressure to be flawless, I began to enjoy writing and publishing.
I now understand that most people don’t care about what I write online. This realisation has set me free—I don’t care either.
I need to to thank you for this fantastic read!!
I definitely loved every little bit of it. I have you book marked to
look at new stuff you post…