I spent a lot of years trying to outrun or outsmart vulnerability by making things certain and definite, black and white, good and bad. My inability to lean into the discomfort of vulnerability limited the fullness of those important experiences that are wrought with uncertainty: Love, belonging, trust, joy, and creativity to name a few. – Brene Brown
Now I know that my blog isn’t unique in anyway. A lot of my thoughts are regurgitated and recycled. There are hundreds others out there who have the same opinion as me, who have written about it on their own blogs.
Then why do I keep going with it?
If I was doing it for the other people on this planet who are reading it, then I would have given up on it a long time ago. I know a lot of people who are writing for accolades, for likes, for comments, for followers, for something external to themselves.
The minute they don’t get all of those items, or they don’t enough of all of these items, they give up and move on to something else. They think it isn’t worth it, their writing isn’t good enough to compete on the blogosphere stage, they think they would be better off spending their time working on something else, that has better compensation, better returns, better accolades, faster movement.
I have had those moments as well.
The minute someone subscribed to my blog, I would be ecstatic. The days I had a lot of people viewing my blog, I would be happy.
Then, those days would be followed by sadness, despair, and anxiety, as no one followed my blog for days and the views on my blog dropped like a rock.
I spent a lot of time in those moments of sadness or despair. As soon as I stopped paying attention to all of those external accolades for my blog, and focused on what was important to me, I felt a whole lot better.
I am writing on the blog, to Write! Everything else is peripheral.
It is something I have to do. I have to write. It is something as integral to what I am, as the next breath that I take, or the next morsel of food that makes up the molecules of my body. I have to write. It isn’t that I can write or will write or maybe write. It is a MUST. It is an absolute must. I have to write. Without it, I am nothing. I am but a speck on this universe, with a lot of stuff in my mind that I wish to write, that I can’t express in any other form.
I can go a few days without writing. I have done it in the past, when I get really busy, but I don’t want to try it too often. I felt empty and full at the same time – there were all of these words that I had to get out of me onto paper. I tried speaking about it, with a friend, but it wasn’t enough. I had to write it all out, it is as if I vomited all of it on the paper, and felt better instantly.
The writing isn’t for my followers (I’m grateful for your support). The writing isn’t for the praise (for which I am grateful as well). But it is because I have to write.
Without it, who would I be, I can’t even imagine.
Is it a good idea to have such a peripheral ethereal item as part of my identity? Writing as who I am. It has worked out till now for me, so I am not really worried about it. But the more I think about it, the more I know I will be writing until my last breath.
I recently listened to this segment on tastytrade financial network, and Tom Sosnoff (the co-founder) was chatting about investing and how long he would be investing. He wondered to himself and his co-host, ‘Would you be investing on your deathbed? Would you keep on investing until your last breath? Or would you stop a week or before when you know you are really sick?’ The answer doesn’t matter. The fact is that these two individuals, Tom and Tony are both addicts. They are addicted to the game of investing and they will be playing the market until their last breath. With their last breath, they will ask their family members to put that last trade on for them.
I feel like I would be the same with regards to writing. I would be writing with my fingers on the laptop or whatever device I would have at the time, until I am no more. Weird, but true.
It isn’t about anyone else. It isn’t about sharing parts of myself with strangers or friends. It is about the writing. It is about the damn writing.
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