Thoughts- Writers Block

man in black jacket sitting on block
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I haven’t written for a nearly a week now.

At first I would have argued that it was because I didn’t have enough time but now if I actually sit with the truth of that statement, there maybe more to it than that.
So what I’m thinking happened is:
I’ve started telling people about my blog (friends and family). Originally it was to share a little bit of the pride I was feeling in myself, for being brave enough to put myself out here, on the big, wide web. Then it became about trying to get more traffic towards my site, gaining more likes on my post and enjoying the little buzz that came when people did. Then it migrated into hoping lots of people would comment on my post, rewarding me with words of praise and acknowledgement but now I’ve reached a point where I have become paralysed by my own stupid need.
I stopped investing in my own opinions and started investing in everyone else’s instead?!?😳😫
Ergh!!
Stupid, sneaky ego.
Just when you stop paying attention, in it sneaks, whispering ideas to your secret hurts, your secret needs, subtly encouraging you to feed it’s darkness and before you know it…you’ve been brainwashed!  A lackey to it’s beckon call, juggling it’s constant demands and fearing its retribution, should you choose to try and ignore it.
It would appear, I have become bound by my secret needy-ness and people pleasing attributions, which has now left me once more in the darkness and unable to write.
Bugger.
If at first you don’t succeed…hide under your duvet, eat ice cream and find something on Netflix to boo over (I’ve tried this…albeit soothing, it’s not very helpful in the solution department)…nope the only option is to accept the lesson and start again.
So back to the beginning I go…
I started this blog for myself.
Like so many out there, I’ve always wanted to become a writer.
I’ve always wanted to be able to unlock the secrets required, to transpose my stories contained within my imagination and somehow bring them to life onto the page. To become a literary magician who could weave words together into a tapestry of adventure and inspiration, that captivated its reader and held them spell bound in a page turning trance for hours.
However, I could never find the vehicle that would help me move beyond the concepts of my ideas, towards the actual physical creation of my own written work. Every time I would start to write, I’d manage about a paragraph and then the internal voices would start chuntering; ‘you make no sense, this is crap, no one is going to read this, what point are you making here, you’re no JK Rowling…’ you get the gist.
My fingers would cease to type and another half started piece of work would end up in my notes folder, waiting for me ‘to come back to it later’.
I have about 4 pieces of work that I started writing for my blog last week, that still remained unfinished. Each one discarded because it became too complicated, potentially too boring or simply, not very good.
Suddenly I’ve gone from writing purely for myself, my own self discovery and the chance of discovering how to download my thoughts into the written word to become some narcissistic, crazy person, who’s focus for writing is now about how many people ‘like’ my work, and if they think I’m clever or not.
Essentially my 14 year old, tracksuit wearing, inner self,  is still people pleasing and desperately seeking approval and ultimately friendship from strangers. I’m ashamed to admit it but I think I’ve been chasing the cool kids and it’s bullsh*t!!!!
I’m so cross at myself. No wonder I’ve ceased writing. I honestly believe some deep down part of myself, has decided to take a subconscious stand and has refused point blank to take part in this shit show.
I don’t want to write for you, for your praise, your friendship or your acceptance. I want to write, so that I can truly begin to know myself. To share my thoughts and struggles, in the vain hope, that it may just resonate with somebody else out there. Someone who is also struggling with life and all of her pot holes. That by sharing my frustrations, hurts and black humour towards life’s quirks, I could possibly provide an umbrella, against someone else’s storm. To let you know that you are not alone in your imperfections and consistent fuck ups. That it’s okay to fail because honestly, it’s the only way we can learn and grow.
Yes, my writing is at times a little wonky, not always witty and sometimes just a bit melodramatic but I will promise you all and more importantly, myself that it will always be honest and authentically me. My words will be written from my own truth, as I currently manage to uncover and understand it.
I write, to state to myself that I am here. That I am prepared to stand in the ring, to display my shame and my guilt, my frustration and hurt, my joy and celebrations and I will wave my flag with courage, hope and honesty.
For in the end, it is all that any of us truly own in this world. Our own voice.
This is mine and I look forward to reading yours.
Take care of yourself always and try not to project your shit onto other people…they have enough of their own to deal with. X

3 thoughts on “Thoughts- Writers Block

  1. I feel this to my core! Just started blogging this past week and I have to constantly remind myself that its not the end of the world that I didn’t get any views today ;p Anyway, I love your message and I love that you’re staying true to yourself!

    Like

    1. Hi Shelly, Thank you so much for getting in touch and sharing your own struggles with me. It’s nice when ones not hanging out there alone. Bravo to your own courage for daring to be seen, heard and potentially judged. Many talk the talk but few dare to leap. No matter how many likes your posts receive, you are already leagues ahead of the game. It’s hard keeping your own voices at bay without the battle to ignore the masses. Keep on being true and sharing your voice. I bet it won’t be long before you have your own choir!!! Thank you again for getting in touch, it means a lot x

      Like

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