SG149 - Why do I avoid being who I want to be?
Maybe you feel this too?
I think A LOT. You might call me an overthinker. I am.
I think deeply. I feel even deeper.
Writing has always been my outlet - the way I make sense of the world.
It’s a world I often feel alone in.
Alone in my depth.
Wondering if I’m too much… or perhaps not enough.
For years now, I’ve wanted to be a writer.
In some ways, I am.
I’ve authored three books and consistently written blogs and newsletters since 2017.
But I’m not a writer in the way I want to be.
A writer writes every day.
This year, I have been writing - but only in my journal.
And it doesn’t count.
For me, being a writer means writing for a living.
But that’s a future version of me.
One that the current version of me feels is impossible to reach.
I dream of days where I ponder life, learn, read, and write.
I write to make sense of everything.
I write to heal myself.
I write to access my truth.
I write as a form of witnessing my own becoming.
I write because it’s who I am.
I’m a writer.
So, why do I avoid it?
Why do I tell myself stories of “I can’t” - when really, what’s happening is “I won’t”?
I won’t write every day.
It’s confronting to say - and own - that this is the truth.
My ego says it’s not the truth.
But my heart knows it is.
I can write. I’m doing it now.
I could write every day - if I were committed to writing every day.
The truth is, I don’t write because it feels scary to move towards a dream future while holding the fear that I may never get there.
Maybe I will.
Maybe I won’t.
But the reality of not writing isn’t making me happier.
The thought of never knowing who I could become is worse than the fear of moving toward my desired future self.
I think I know why I don’t write.
I don’t yet believe it can support me - at least, financially.
It’s a big burden to place on these fragile words.
But I’ve recently realised I’ve got it the wrong way around.
By committing to my words, I strengthen them.
If I lead with supporting them by showing up every day, maybe one day they’ll be strong enough to support me.
The truth I’m learning through showing up is that financial support isn’t the only support that counts.
These words are my oxygen.
They give me space to breathe.
To feel less alone.
They hold me lovingly when I’m scared.
When I think too deeply and feel even deeper.
These are my words. And I love them.
So, I’m committed to showing up for them.
Because that’s what we do.
We show up for those we love.
We show them who we are through our actions.
And in return, we’re rewarded with being seen, accepted, and loved for who we are.
Perhaps I’m no longer avoiding who I want to be.
Perhaps I just needed to love the journey of becoming her.
