I’m just going to cut right to the heart of this post:
Sometimes I have these moments of panic where I’m like, “WHY AREN’T YOU WRITING?” Why is this not your career? Why aren’t you doing this thing that you love that you’ve been doing since you were four when your preschool teacher wrote in your student journal, “Carley spends a lot of time at the writing station, I think she’s destined to be a writer.”
And that’s a scary thing to think about – that maybe I’m doing this whole thing wrong. I know there isn’t really a way to do this thing “right”, because really, we’re all getting out of bed every day and doing the best we can. Still, it’s a scary thing to consciously accept that there’s this gift that I’m neglecting.
I don’t mean to say “gift” implying that I’ve been “gifted” with this incredible talent, because I haven’t. There are millions of writers out there who I admire, and are more talented than I am. There are millions of writers out there who are getting PAID to be more talented than I am. But it’s a gift in the sense that I have an out. I have something to turn to. A place to go and people who listen (whether or not they want to is not something I can comment on. My family, friends, and the Internet have been extremely kind and gracious in choosing to read the words I constantly force upon them).
Is it a gift to have something you love to do?
Is it a damn shame not to make it your career?
I have a very real fear that the thing I love so much could become work that I hate if I made it my life’s work. I KNOW THAT IS A CRAZY THING TO THINK. But it’s a thing that I think about often. I’ve seen, known, and loved people whose work has driven them absolutely insane, and maybe I’m being selfish here, but I don’t want the beautiful relationship I have with my writing to become a thing that I’m putting off because I’d rather be watching Mad Men. (Okay, I said Mad Men to sound trendy but maybe I meant New Girl. Whatever.)
And none of this is to say that I’m not happy with my career at the moment, because I’m fortunate to wake up every day and work with an incredible team filled with people I truly value and want to be around. I get to work on projects that are so damn inspiring that suddenly I’m walking home from an impromptu evening work meeting on a random Tuesday and I’m hit with this overwhelming feeling of, “Holy shit, people are so cool – their ideas, and their dreams, and their brains are JUST SO BIG AND COOL.”
But sometimes, the writing half of me shouts, “Hey! What about me? I’m cool, too!”
Which leads me to my next point:
I’ve been the proud owner of Findingravity for coming up on three years, and sometimes you work on something for three years and it carries you through the rest of your life. But other times, you outgrow things. You outgrow mindsets, and belief systems, and even people. Sometimes you rediscover them and you try to make them fit, like finding your old prom dress. And you take it off the hanger and hold it up to your body, and you try to squeeze into it. When it doesn’t fit, you’re a little crushed, because when you find that sorbet green tulle trailing beauty, for a moment, you wish you could be 18 again.
And you learn that as humans we are elastic, and resilient, and we really can stretch much, much further than we ever thought we could. That it’s actually healthy to outgrow. Sometimes, I read this blog, and despite it being filled with wonderful experiences that I’m unequivocally proud of, I feel heavy and sad all at once. This space is completely emblematic of where I was at very nebulous time in my life. Not knowing what I wanted, moving to a new city, embarking on this journey that, as a woman, has been so important in shaping who I’ve become. But now, I feel like I’m in a different point in my life.
I feel like I’m a different person. Part of growing into who I am and who I want to be in my adult life means learning how to challenge the people and places and parts of myself I’m too comfortable with. Life is really just about being brave enough to ask really difficult questions, and figuring out how to move forward no matter the answer. For me, right now, life is about learning how to cut through the middle of all the bullshit, and doing so with compassion and kindness, while not sacrificing my value. (I can say bullshit and compassion in the same sentence, right?)
I want the hub that houses my personal writing to demonstrate that sentiment.
I want to write for my blog again, and I WILL write for my blog again, and I hope that you are all still here when I do (because I love you all). That said, I want the place that I write to represent me accurately, and the truth is, right now it doesn’t. It’s going to take a few months of soul searching and digging and rejiggering, and design hounding, but I plan to relaunch a new blog hopefully between now and the New Year. A place that is home. It’s probably the first step in making writing a thing that I actually DO, you know, as part of my external, public facing life. It’s also probably going to occupy every spare moment of my free time to the point where it’s Saturday night and I’m locked away eating soup from a package.
It’s been a long time since I’ve poured myself into my writing, but it will all be worth it.
I’ll see you guys on the other side of whatever it is I’m about to do.
All of this is to say: Findingravity, it’s been real. Fist bump into explosion.
I’m just going to cut right to the heart of this post: