Written in RED

I told myself I would start a blog every year for the past five years. I also told myself that I would write at least one blog post every month. So as you can see, I’m clearly way ahead of schedule, she says sarcastically. -_-

Looking back, putting out twelve teensy weensy blog posts within a span of 365 days seemed like such an achievable and straightforward goal, almost easy when you’re starting out.

“But then again, talking about the end goal is so much easier than taking time to consider all of the work you need to do to get there“

Back when I was a child, I couldn’t get enough of writing. My mum used to set assignments at the weekend and I would love writing short stories about anything and everything I could think of. I distinctly remember devouring tens of books over the summer holidays, just so I could collect enough inspiration to fuel my own pre-teen renditions that followed the style of my favourite authors. I’d write pages and pages of barely legible scratch and then feel SO PROUD when my teacher/mum/after school club mentor asked me to read it out loud. Especially if it was in front of my peers…am I better than everyone?!?!!

Stopppppp – I’m shy 😉

(but also don’t).

So fast forward to now. Knowing so many more words than younger RED did back then and having so much more life experience that could be used to power my passion and I feel stuck.

On paper, I’m supposed to love this and it’s supposed to be easy for me. So why after putting out just two blogs in over 4 months, to absolutely no one in particular, I find myself wanting to delete everything and pretend that I never even tried.

“Why feel regret when I can just pretend it never happened in the first place amirite“

Taking time to think about this honestly, (time I probably should have spent writing tbh), I think I’m procrastinating when it comes to writing because I now have all of these expectations for myself. I’m comparing my writing to that in books, other blogs I’ve read and even the way I write for my job. Even though, those writers have completely different audiences and objectives than I do, it’s this added unnecessary pressure of what I think perfection looks like that makes me too scared to even begin. A big part of me feels that I have to show up in the same level of professionalism and studiousness as I do in every other place that I write, when in fact no one told me I had to do that. I’m spending so much time focusing on what my writing should be instead of what I want it to be that it’s turned into a job and completely stopped being fun.

This level of writing anxiety reached such a peak this last few months that I have been found myself

It was recently my birthday and just like many do at the start of a new year, I set a list of goals and milestones I want to reach within this new year of life.

“However, the plans that I have for my life always seem to clash with the plans life has for me”

Things are always happening – new jobs, family drama, new friendships, ending of friendships, new relationships, illness, you name it – which means that all of the things that I thought I wanted to make time for now seem like extra work. And in this soft life I’m trying to live, I do not have the energy for extra work.

I’m not someone who likes change. I can say that pretty openly. And I’ve become content with this fact about myself. I will get deeply upset and offended when they switch out actors in a show and automatically don’t like them because they’re new. Which I think is a pretty fair reaction, I mean what was wrong with how things used to be? If you spend time getting to know an actors personality and nuances then personally, I just don’t think it’s right to ——

Anyyyywayyyy, so when life changes happen, it throws me completely off kilter and it can take me a while to adjust. And within this adjustment period, I can be known to overthink, and become stagnant hence why it’s so hard to get back into writing when I’m navigating the ever changing complexities of life and feeling overwhelmed.

That nothing has to be perfect; this whole sense of perfection is unattainable. Keep wanting to maintain this level of ‘pristine’ I must have with everything ultimately stops me from moving forward.

I’ve had so many ideas for blog posts in the last few months but because I was anxious that they were never going to be perfectly thought out and executed, I just didn’t write them. When in fact I like to do this, I like to write. It doesn’t have to be an essay, I don’t have to write a thesis, I’m just writing down my thoughts. That was the whole thought process of creating this in the first place.

And so I am trying to get used to the idea that it’s not the end of the world if I’m sometimes a little rough around the edges.

Just because it’s not perfect doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.

And for right now, I’m just focusing on showing up.

– RED