Day 115 of 365: I write because…

I don’t write because I want to; I write because I have to. I share my words and thoughts and feelings in as transparent of a way as possible on any given day because, if I don’t, I can feel the words dancing under my skin… Painting graffiti inside my veins… Sketching doodles inside the lid of my mind’s eye… Desperate to be freed into the external world.

I try to stop myself from sharing as openly as I do. I tell myself no one cares, or that I’m embarrassing my family, or that I’m scaring people off. And I convince myself that all this is true. That, because of the subject matter and brutal honesty of my blog and other public writing, no one will want to hire me. I convince myself of these falsities.

I call them “falsities,” even though each of them has a chunk of truth.

It is true that not many people care about what I have to say. But, even if only 1% of the population gives a shit or even understands what I’m sharing, that’s still 74 million people. Even .1% is 7.4 million eligible readers.

It is true that I’ve embarrassed or upset my family with some of what I’ve written. It’s also true that my level of honesty was a catalyst for both my parents’ now year+ in sobriety. Because of my transparency, my mother and I have mended our relationship in the most miraculous and vulnerable way.

It is true that people get scared off by my content or my feelings or the deep darkness I experience. This makes room for people who aren’t scared of me. This has introduced me to people who say, “I am happy to receive you exactly as you are, no matter what mood you’re in or how you’re feeling. Even if you just need to sit with a person and do nothing, I will be that person.” It’s allowed me the privilege of cultivating true friendships where honesty and transparency is the foundation.

It is true that I have been turned down for a job due to “not seeming emotionally stable” and “having too much of a mental pendulum swing” to work… at a tiny bookstore… Making $8 an hour… Working one day a week… When I had a college degree and 10+ years’ corporate experience. It is true that I likely could not get hired to work with a large corporation. This is forcing me to grow my entrepreneurial muscle and bring my dreams to life. It’s forcing me not to settle for a basic 9-5 gig. It’s forcing me to think bigger, and to live more authentically.

There’s a good and a bad to everything. It’s all about what I focus on.

No matter how hard I try to stop myself from sharing as much or as frequently as I do, the need to speak bubbles back up again. Cutting myself off from this expression cuts me off from my life force. When I don’t write or make videos or share, I fall into a pretty deep depression. I feel listless, lifeless, useless, bored, and filled with energy that deserves to be manifested physically.

And so, this is a battle in my mind. There’s this part of me that still so badly wants to be my idea of “normal”… Someone who works that 9-5 job and has the normal surface-level relationships and has a glass or two of wine after work and watches silly tv shows and goes to early morning gym classes. Part of me craves the stability of that life. The predictability of it.

But I legitimately am unable to live that life. That life makes me sick. That path takes me further and further away from the source of my life force.

I don’t know if I believe in a god. I don’t know where life force energy or source energy comes from… Or what the “source” even is. But I do know that, for whatever reason, this is what I’m here to do. I’m here to write. To speak. To share. I’ve known this since I was a child.

I guess I always assumed that pursuing my passion would bring me joy. I rarely feel joy, though. I feel relief and release, but not joy. I feel fear and vulnerability, but not joy.

I don’t write because I want to; I write because I have to.

 

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Sometimes I write about happy things. Other times I write about sad things. Either way, there will be doodles.

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