I’ve not posted here for months. No kidding, you say, where have you been?!
I started the page originally because I found solace in writing after a family bereavement.
And it helped; it gave me time on my own, but time where I wasn’t lost destructively in my thoughts.
It gave me time to be creative in a way that I’d not allowed myself to be before.
So, why did I stop?
Did the grief suddenly leave? No. And if you’re unfortunate enough to know, you’ll know.
I’ll be honest, I fell into my usual butterfly-mind, multipotentialite pattern of starting something and then stopping.
If my floor could be littered with half-started, half-finished projects and ideas, it would look like an absolute mess.
No, I didn’t do myself any favours. I follow some amazing creatives, and I stopped reading their articles. I stopped picking up their wisdom.
And in a world where I hate the world ‘should’’, I should have continued.
The Solution
I should have continued and not gotten stressed out when suddenly things got a little harder because I ran out of things to say.
I should not have stressed out when I was looking blankly at a page.
Because I realise now that writing doesn’t always come naturally — not for everyone. Does it mean you should stop?
No, it means you can continue, and I’m realising that maybe the best permission I can give myself is to not be perfect and to accept that writing is like exercising a muscle.
If I don’t write, nothing will come. I have to give myself a chance. It’s a bit like life, really. It’s a mindset thing.
So, this year, I’m allowing myself not to strive for perfection.
I’m allowing myself to experiment, to play, and to be creative.
And with that, after one of the shortest pieces you’re probably going to read this year, Happy New Year, folks.
I hope you’ll join me for the ride.
Big love, Liz
