A revelation: I do not need permission to do my writing.
I do not need to wait until I have written the best piece ever created by a human to share it.
I do not believe that writing joy only comes from being produced/published/championed by someone ‘more important than me’.
Has it really taken me till the age of 52 to realise that?
Maybe. And I feel bad to think of things that have got in the way. Things like:
- Having a ‘proper’ job (because it used up all my mental, physical, creative energy).
- Not having a proper job (because I was exhaused by poverty and the benefits system).
- Being freelance (because when I got sick I had no income and…see above).
- Fear of humiliation (because what if I was kidding myself that my writing had any value and I would be devastated by the realisation that it doesn’t?).
- Fear of not mattering (what if I put myself out there and nobody gave a shit?).
- Deep-seated belief that I have no right (Who the hell do I think I am?)
Hmmm… a shame eh?!
But it’s okay; the top three are currently taken care of by an enjoyable part-time day job whose lack of money/status is offset by lack of stress, and regular writing time.
And I’ve sorted out the bottom three by…well, deciding that, fucking hell, it’s really horrible to do that to yourself.
I now hereby happily declare that I am in full possession of my writing; that I have made it a habit central to my existence and intend to enjoy it (even when I’m not).
#TuesdayThoughts #AmWriting #BeingCreative #TakingPowerBack #DepressionRecovery