Hi world. Long time no blog post.
I haven’t deliberately been ignoring my blog (or the pages of my notebooks) its just that every time I pick up a pen to write or open my blog to a new post, my brain just goes blank.
Maybe blank isn’t actually the right way to describe it. It’s more fuzzy; the thoughts are there and I can make sense of it in my head but when I try to get them out they get stuck and jumbled and I can’t get anything decent or worth reading out.
Writers tend to refer to this as writers block – the inability for one to create any new work. The cause of writers block usually come down to some kind of pressure, either from a looming deadline or pressure from oneself or the lack of inspiration or creativity around a topic. Somewhat of a disinterest in the topic you are writing about.
I have no deadlines. I am not disinterested in the topics I am writing about. There is certainly no lack of inspiration – I am living the subjects that I’m talking about.
So maybe it comes down to pressure. The pressure to create perfect blog posts. The pressure to post regularly. The pressure to write for other people, not for myself. But why, I hear you ask. Why do I place so much pressure of myself when no one really cares how much I post or what I post? Heck, how can I even be sure how much of what I write is read by the outside world?
Ultimately I think it comes down to being engulfed by the concept of being perfect – to seek a version of myself that is seemingly unobtainable.
It’s funny isn’t it? Perfectionism is a trait that so many people desire but for me it’s the cause of so much unhappiness and self loathing. The idea of not being able to do things to the standard that I want sends me into a spiral of panic. It leads me to procrastinate which also sends my anxiety skyrocketing. This makes simple tasks such as writing a blog post seem like incredibly daunting activities.
I know I cannot be the as perfect as the person I’ve created in my mind and pushing myself to that standard is damaging – mentally and physically. It’s stripping the joy from so many things that I once took solace in. Writing. Exercise. Food. Everything has become a competition and yet I’m only competing against myself, or the ‘perfect self’ my brain has created. And yet no matter how hard I try to stop that voice in the back of my mind reminding me how important it is to do things perfectly, I just can’t.
But I can do something else. I can persist. I can ignore the voice in my head telling me I must be perfect. I can keep writing, no matter how many times I hit delete on a sentence. I can keep reminding myself that it’s okay not to be perfect (in fact, there is no such thing). I can keep rolling with the punches.
I can keep living, no matter how hard it seems and how alone I feel.