“I’m not entirely sure I’ll ever be able to say that I’ve finally gotten it together, that I’ve put all of my unfavourable habits aside and that I’ve finally learnt to give my time to the things that matter most. Though, I can say that I am doing the best I can to maintain the desire to get things done, even when the time is limited, when I get too busy, when I’ve got too much on my plate at once. Over the past year or so I’ve found it incredibly difficult to channel my emotions into anything that I write, for there was always that innate fear that it would just become too real. Lately, I’ve been trying to allow all of that feeling to drive itself into my work. It certainly became too real, yes, but that is when I finally remembered what it felt like to write something meaningful, something genuine.”
Have you ever been through a period of time where you’ve written something you were so undoubtedly proud of, and upon reading it over, that pride began to dwindle? I’ve always been a little too critical of what I put down on paper, regardless of the project, regardless if it’s just a weekly journal entry that will never see the light of day. I’ve grown accustomed to feeling not much of anything, except the willingly present drive to get things done, to do better, and to fulfill my goals. It’s hard to backtrack when you’ve gotten so comfortable suppressing all of the things that made your writing good in the first place.
“For as long as I can remember, I kept a journal of all that bothered me, excited me, and made me glad to spend the time immortalizing those moments. Though, I definitely say that rereading those moments truly allow me to put into perspective just how much I’ve changed in such a short amount of time. There has been so much that I’ve lost sight of, so much that when I manage to muster up the courage to sit down and thoroughly thumb through it all, I can’t believe that it’s real.”
I spend quite a lot of my time writing about writing, about why I love it, about why I continue to do it as often as I do. I don’t spend nearly enough of that time getting down on paper what I need to be sharing with the world, with myself. There is a strange sense of self-discovery that comes with the territory of being a writer, of giving yourself the motivation to keep going even when you’d rather chuck everything you’ve been working on and retire to bed. It doesn’t get easier. However, it remains worthwhile. I can say, from experience, I get quite frustrated and or stressed when I haven’t written anything in a while, because I feel as though I’m not allowing myself the release I need to be able to stay motivated, to keep my head above water and keep going.
The point is, and will always be: Write because you love the process, write because you love to explore different variations of the world you see in front of you. Write because it means something to you. It means more to me than even I can understand, and for that, I’m grateful that I can retreat to my writing when things get a bit tough, when I don’t feel like getting out of bed and facing all the responsibilities that present themselves. It’s all about perspective, it’s all about what we choose to do with our day. Make it count.