I wonder a lot why I keep writing here. I wish I had more to offer.
Yes, I believe my story is valuable. I love reading other people’s stories, and it seems some people are interested in reading mine (thanks!), but I wonder sometimes if I could be doing something different, and more productive, with this space.
In my old space I wrote for me, to process all the feelz. There is less to process these days. My life has taken on a monotonous pace, and in the absence of big feelings to work through, I can’t help but consider the purpose of this place.
Also, I think my writing has actually gotten worse over time. I went back to read some of my first posts here and I didn’t recognize the writing. Even then it felt like I was tackling bigger issues; now most of my posts are run-downs of my days, and not very articulate ones at that.
I think a part of me expected to some day have my Aha! Moment, some epiphany to lend purpose, or at least direction. But that epiphany never came, and I continue to struggle with the many issues (spending, clutter, overwhelm, job dissatisfaction) that still plague me, after having abandoned others (friendship, community, creativity, mindfulness) along the wayside of life. I don’t know if I want this place to be mostly a brief summary of my days, but I don’t know what else I have to offer…
At this point I keep writing because I can’t imagine stopping. But that isn’t a real reason to continue doing something.
It’s something I’ll be thinking about.