Yes, I gave up writing.
I closed my laptop after a long week of struggling to push past my writers block. I attempted to evade it again but that was a constant fail. I decided that clearly this isn’t for me. Obviously right? The words I wrote translated into steaming hot TRASH every time I read them back to myself.* I longed for the days where I actually enjoyed writing again. My already anxiety filled mind was constantly filled with thoughts of unwritten essays and half drafted pitches that didn’t make it past my phone’s notes or my mind.
I attempted to move on. I started looking at my life and set my eyes on a ‘new’ career choice. I ignored my blog’s renewal alert as I wouldn’t need it anymore. I texted friends “I’m done writing, hanging it up. Its me, not it”. I was feeling okay with moving on from something I loved for years. Okay, not good but okay. It was time.
When I tell you that your purpose doesn’t give a damn about how YOU feel…TRUST ME ON THAT.
It started with a tweet from someone asking for an old blog post to pass along. People remember my writing past the moment that they’re reading it? Cool. Then it was a reply to my “I quit” text to my one of my friends. It was filled with laughing emojis followed by “Yeah right girl! Who are you without writing?” ending with a quote from Sister Act 2 about knowing that I am whatever I think about every morning and night. I didn’t respond because I was left asking myself; what am I without writing?
Writing was the very thing that saved my sanity (and my life) after my Dad died. It spoke for me when my words would get stuck in my throat. It was the love of my life that opened doors that I thought were closed off to me. I had actually hit that point: I had realized that I allowed my own doubts to scare me away from myself. Writing is me. I am writing, I am a writer. If all else fails, I CAN WRITE honey. I am nothing without writing, its contains my GOD given purpose and grace. It actually gets read by people other than myself and it touches something in them. That writer’s block is nothing but the devil himself standing in my way and I let him win too many times. I believed all the doubts and I gave up on myself. THAT WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN.
The doubts are suppose to come up. The struggles will always be there. Even in my 30s, I am not exempt from feeling and dealing with those things. But anything aligned with your purpose won’t let you go that easily. Kinda like that old boo of yours that keeps popping up to see if you want them back like they want you. Except this time…the feeling is mutual.
Long story short, I got words comin’ at you.
*Walk On Water by Eminem explains perfectly what I’ve been feeling.