On writing, again

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Photo by Green Chameleon on Unsplash

I guess it’s time to write again.

I’ve had such a complicated relationship with writing. I love it. And then I hide that love. Or I judge myself and my words and how I form sentences and how I express emotions.

But all of a sudden there are days like today when every little bit of me forces me to write. Not just those long and all-over-the-place diary entries – this I do a lot.

I have these fidgety fingers. I need to write things down. I need to type. I need to let it out on paper and on word documents and on email drafts that I never send anyone.

Writing is so significant to the person I am and the person I want to become.

Still, I often wonder why I don’t do it enough. Why is it so difficult?

Things we’re passionate about have this immense sense of power over us. But most of the times we keep pushing away what defines us. In this moment, I’m so confused about that tendency. We measure our productivity in terms of the time we spend at work, in the gym, with friends or asleep. I set tens of reminders everyday – meetings, doing my laundry, buying groceries, fixing a light bulb (I almost never get to this), reading that article, watching that video, signing up for that interesting online course (I sign up and leave it soon after).

No reminders for writing. No setting time aside for the thing that fulfils me. Maybe because it forces me to focus, to shut the chaos, to meditate.

Yeah, it’s a lot like meditation. It’s so difficult to convince yourself to sit still, to close your eyes and to focus. It’s almost terrifying to come to terms with your life outside of the work you do, the people you are surrounded with, the shows you’re watching, the books you’re reading, the social media posts you’re inundated with.

It’s almost terrifying to be your true self.

What bothers me most is how disentangled we’re getting from our core. And maybe from that whole childhood idea of dreaming. Happy dreams.

I often go back to what a therapist told me once: Do more of what makes you happy.

I’m such a big supporter of that. I’ve always found happiness in the little things in life. I’ve always tried to make a lot of decisions based on that.

But I guess at that time, this is exactly what I wanted to hear.

In this last one year, I’ve tried to understand life and learn from life in ways I’ve never done before. When something makes me happy, I note that down. It’s like another reminder to me that when life feels a bit too hard to handle, I need to go to this list of happy things and do one of those. It helps and it doesn’t.

I know I’m again talking about too many things in one little space. But at least, I’m writing. Letting my fidgety fingers find their calm in the chaos of my surroundings.

 

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