My first blog post! Writing, self-doubt and dream fulfillment
Hello, internet!
I started a writing blog for three big reasons:
I love to write.
I, and many others, think I'm good at writing.
I'm finally acknowledging my true potential.
Not only do I intend to keep a casual blog for fun - I'm going to become a real writer! It's nerve wracking to even type that. I've always been terrified to seriously dedicate myself to writing. A blog is a great way to slowly get back into it while exposing my writing persona to an online audience. The greatest source of my fear around writing has always been from expressing my creativity to the public. But more broadly, my fear of writing has always stemmed from self-doubt. If you're reading this, it probably means that I mustered up the courage to actually post this. That's a MAJOR step for me.
Wanting to become a serious writer is nothing new to me. I've loved expressing myself through this art since I first learned how! I really do believe that I express myself more effectively through writing. That's likely because I'm a scatter brain with impulsive thoughts constantly revolving through my head. I often think of what "I should've said" long after the conversation has passed. It's great that writing my thoughts and feelings takes the pressure of face-to-face interaction down a few notches, and it allows me more time to choose my words carefully. I have a history of being a nervous person. I'm also one of those nerds who loved writing essays and research papers in school. I was told in high school by a few of my English teachers that I had a gift for it, that I should really pursue it as a career. Family members told me the same thing. I thought that if this is what all of the adults are telling me to do, then I guess it's what I should try to achieve. Not that I didn't actually have a dream of being a writer - it's the first real career dream I ever had. The ONLY real one, actually. The idea of being a writer, that it could be my profession, what I do . . . it was a little slice of paradise in my fearful mind.
But it was a surreal dream. Thinking about what it would take to become a serious writer was horrifying to me. Imagining the instability involved with trying to make ends meet through art, or more importantly through myself, was more than daunting. It seemed like a very risky pursuit, and I just couldn't imagine myself successfully making it happen. But now I know that it wasn't the difficulty or uncertainty in becoming a writer that ultimately held me back from it, but my own insecurity. I had a confusing, unstable childhood, and I never learned to love who I was. I had a very low self-esteem. My dream literally could have been anything, and I wouldn't have believed I could achieve it.
As a lost teenager full of angst, all I really knew about my future was that I was going to college. I figured I'd find my way there. When it came time to actually go to college, I was mostly just excited to get out of the little town I grew up in. I have no negative feelings about my hometown now, but back then I thought it was the scum of the earth and I partially blamed it for my problems. I vaguely remember being extremely intoxicated at my high school senior graduation party, and yelling, "I'm never gonna see any of you again!! Goodbye FOREVER!! WOOHOO!!" Looking back on this time, what I really needed was not to find my career path, but to find self-love. I went on to college, and I declared my major as English literature. I really, really liked being in college. I was finally considered an adult and I could do everything at my leisure: I could skip class if I wanted to and not suffer authoritative consequences, I could go to the bathroom in the middle of lecture without asking permission, I could study and do assignments on my own schedule. But I also went a little crazy with all of this new freedom. I didn't really party in high school until the very end of my senior year, but once I moved away on my own, I became very involved with it. Luckily I've always been a good student and my desire to keep at it never went away, but it did become less important to me for a while. Thoughts around what I wanted to be "when I grow up" took the back burner to partying with friends 24/7 and "loving life." I had finally come out of my socially awkward shell with the help of alcohol and I wasn't willing to give that up. However, I managed to get much more serious after a couple years of debauchery. And I actually never returned to being quite as shy and awkward as I was before. I'm not saying that self-sabotaging alcoholic behavior is a good thing; it definitely is not! But moving away, starting over, making so many new friends, and experiencing personal responsibility for the first time helped me feel more a little more comfortable with myself. Eventually I fell in love with the social sciences in college, and I decided that I would pursue anthropology instead of literature. I loved studying it and an anthropologist can still do a great deal of writing in their profession! I don't regret it. Not one bit. Studying anthropology was an absolute pleasure and the things I learned are certainly not wasted on me just because I haven't taken it further than a BA. But my real desires after graduating were still very vague and frightening.
For a few years, I completely lost sight of my writing dream. I was burnt out on school, so I decided to take a couple years off to just work a fun, local job and be still. But I continued to desire an actual career of my own as well as financial freedom. I planned on going to graduate school, at first for anthropology, then for nutrition, then for communications, then for ophthalmology . . . but I always gave up, because I didn't believe in myself enough to fight the necessary battles. And because it just wasn't what I truly wanted to do in my heart, and I couldn't force it with all the hard work and money it would require. I was trying to find the perfect "practical" career goal, because it's a tough, competitive, expensive world, and I needed to quickly figure out something that simply worked for me more than what really fulfilled me. I also didn't want a career that meant being completely self-reliant or creatively expressive. I was too afraid that I'd fail and have nobody to blame but myself. I wanted fulfillment too, of course, but my excitement toward pursuing something more "sensible" than writing always faded into anguish. But then I still viewed changing direction as failure, and I internalized it more and more.
While in the midst of working on a grad school application in early August of 2014, I had a very sudden onset of two brain hemorrhages and had to undergo brain surgery to save my life. I was severely disabled and had to work extremely hard to recover, to even be able to walk again. I'm actually still recovering, over two years later. It's really forced me to slow down and take a look at myself and what I truly seek from life. In this way, it was a gift. It also shattered my confidence in other ways, because for the first time I was physically limited, and couldn't keep up the way I used to in the work world. How would I ever obtain a profession with a neurologically weak left side and limited visual field?
Until recently, I never realized that I needed to look inward and learn to love myself if I really wanted to know what to work toward. I've been doing some deep self-exploration with a close friend who happens to be an empowerment coach. I was commuting with her for a job I was doing with her a few months ago, and somehow in the midst of one of our conversations I came to the realizations that I don't believe in myself and that I don't think I'm worthy of the things I desire in life. Once I truly recognized and acknowledged that I needed to work on myself, my confidence and optimism grew exponentially. I've been looking at many new opportunities and I don't feel the overwhelming fear that I always felt before. I've obviously found my way back to my writing dream, and I've never felt better about working toward anything else. I know that I can really do this. I'm still quite nervous and aware that it's going to take hard work, like anything else. But I love doing this work. And I will do it.
I absolutely acknowledge the privilege I have. Not everybody gets to go to college. Not everybody has the time or energy to focus on their dreams like I do right now. That's one of the greatest gifts to be had from the brain incident that I experienced. I don't know if I'd say that it was worth all the horror I went through, but I'm grateful and aware of the time and space I've been given to rebuild myself. That being said, I do believe that everyone can afford to look inward and decide if they love themselves enough to find what they truly desire. Building up from within will improve your life no matter what your circumstances are.