I’m struggling with writing. Sitting in front of my laptop, this used to be my means of procrastination, but now I’m procrastinating writing here. There so many reasons for that, but the main one is my fear that I’ve become boring… I know everyone say to write for yourself, but here’s the problem: I bore myself.
This isn’t new. I’ve been boring myself for years.
On my shelves, below the books, are journals. Beautiful covers, acid free paper, one bought for myself, but mostly gifts. Gifts because everyone thinks I’m the type to write. Bought myself because I want to be the type to write. But all of them are mostly empty. Some started, but none finished. And what is written isn’t profound or even interesting.
The problem isn’t simply writers block. It is that I hate my own writing, I see a page sullied by the pen I wield. Or at least that’s what it starts with. But there is always something, one thing that makes it unbearable for me. I don’t know how to turn off the voice in the back of my head. You know that annoying voice that has an opinion on everything I do and it’s always a negative one. I know we all have one, mine just seems particularly verbose of late.
Here I’m struggling to find my voice in terms of how I write, but also in terms of what I write about. Updates about the men in my life may all be well and good, but I wanted to figure things out. This space was meant to be mine, to completely homiest with myself and document how I’m feeling about my marriage and my life. I think it’s harder because I’m not getting into other parts of my life, which still have an impact on how I see myself and ultimately what I’m looking for…
Perhaps it is sufficient to say that career-wise I’m flailing. I am not living up to anyone’s expectations of me and my confidence is shot. Everyone would have guessed that I’d be successful and have an exciting career, but not only am I not working in my field, I’m currently not working at all. And it’s killing me. I could go into more detail, but for the sake of anonymity I won’t.
But I will keep writing. Writing in the hopes that eventually I find my voice. That I figure things out. Or at least get a little closer.