I wrote a few weeks back about my resolution to seek and fight for joy in my life.
I’m generally consider myself an optimistic person, but I can really be plagued with moments of extreme doubt. Paralyzed almost. And if I’m not careful, these moments can stretch longer, and have a much greater effect on everything around me.
At the start of this year, I really resolved to seek joy, but it turns out resolving to do something doesn’t mean anything if you don’t have the tools to help you get there. For me, I’d forgotten how much writing it out really helps me process and let go of things. It helps me give it a place. Put a name to whatever is frustrating me and then move on and do something from there. I had a couple good friends listen as I rambled, because I just kept failing to make the time to put it down in writing, so that ultimately helped me some. But really, writing would have been so much quicker. Not publicly, mind you. But at least in my personal journal. Its been collecting dust since October. I don’t know why I always forget this.
I went to a little round-robin clinic about different health matters lately, and one of the topics was “journaling”.
I almost didn’t want to go to it. Actually, I didn’t want to go to it, but it was the last one left. So I went. And it turns out it was just what I needed to hear.
“Journaling shouldn’t be a burden to you, just another thing that you have to do. It should be something that helps you be.”
That quote was like a key unlocking a deep issue I’ve had with writing. Journaling looks so different for everyone. I know others do this, but I find the very idea of making myself write in a journal every day to be suffocating. Mostly because I hate anyone telling me what to do, including myself, apparently. But II admit more importantly because I have a fear of failure and journaling is a way to blatantly record all of those messy failures. I find old journals to be a liability. They are evidence of an imperfect past, of my human nature and of a perspective continuously evolving that is never complete. A snippet in time that maybe, shouldn’t have been recorded because that wasn’t the end goal. That was just a post-marker. A point I needed to stop and suck air because I was so winded. And that can be hard to look back on and read.
Sometimes I just get overwhelmed with sadness at the person I was. Which is ironic because some of my writings on subfertility are some of my most treasured possessions.
But its my nature to just get stuck right there. And not move any further. To dwell on the negative.
And here’s the incredible irony.
By dwelling on the fact that “I’m not there yet”, in letting that negative self-talk stop me from writing down my thoughts, I fail to allow myself to process what I’m going through, therefore stunting any possibility for growth in the future. Because writing it how I process it. I just get stuck in a cycle of not moving anywhere. This is somewhat what I was trying to touch on when I wrote this.
I’m going to try to focus more on the journey, rather than just wanting immediate results. Maybe I’m finally learning that “I’m not there yet” is a straw-man argument because “there” doesn’t really exist.
Anyway, the base of it is that if writing helps you know yourself, you should do it, simply because then it allows you to be yourself. And we need more people who are passionately themselves so they can make changes in this world.
For me, writing is a necessary step towards joy, and something that I’ve been missing.
I just want to clarify, since this is a public blog, that I don’t necessarily mean writing for all the world to see, but writing for myself to process complicated thoughts and emotions. I haven’t even been doing that. I strive to strike the right balance between sharing privately and publicly, because unfortunately, sometimes I think more damage than good can be done when we share immature thoughts on a public forum.