On being a little lost, and finding your way back

©️Sylvilel

It's been a long time since I felt as run-down as I do now, so it's actually a little hard to admit that I'm not doing so well at the moment.

But I choose to view it as a symptom of a forward-moving process. Considering all the mental changes I've been through over a very short period, it would be ridiculous to think that my body woulnd't eventually catch up with the mental exhaustion.

So now it's evidently time to take a step back and let things run their course for while; let all the hard work process, and see what becomes of it.

Since I'm not at all a perfectionist/idealist (read: sarcasm), it's difficult to let go. I am really bad at letting go.

But some wise idiot apparently said that you should fake it 'til you make it.

Also, in nine days time I'm having another surgery on the arm that I broke last August, which isn't exactly mood-lifting. But that too is part of a growing-process (pun intended), and I've decided that all will be well afterwards. If it isn't - well, that's a problem for then.

Another thing happening in my life right now is that I'm working pretty hard on getting back in the writing-game.

As some of you will know, I've had a lot of trouble finding my voice, and I think the main reason is that I've been trying to fit myself into a form that't doesn't fit me. That way I've fallen completely out of touch with the stuff I like writing about, and it's been killing my vibe.

There is such a thing as trying too hard.

The writing community has a well-known concept called write what you want to read. But me - probably no surprise that I've been trying to write what I tought others might want to read.

In fact, that is a trap I've fallen into on various occasions, in various fields; kind of selling my soul to the highest bidder.

This again probably stems from a very strong need for affirmation, in the desperate "will somebody please just love me"-sort of way.

Combine that with indestructible pride and stubbornness, and you have a classical recipie for disaster.

Now:

Before you go all "oh my god, poor thing, will you be allright" - let me say that it's not so bad as all that.

I am not on the verge of another depression or anything like that.

I'm going through a recalibration-process, and it's taxing, in many, many ways - but it is a good thing.

Reprogramming your brain to try and become a better you is in fact a great thing. And this is where my writing helps me.

Be it fiction or blog posts, it let's me measure my progress by what I write, how I write, and how it feels to write.

And where before writing made me feel a bit like I was drowning, it now makes me feel like I'm drawing the first real breath after drowning. This shows in that I can suddenly write honestly for a change.

I used to be a terrified little kid. I was a terrified teenager. Now I'm almost thirty, and I'm still terrified. The difference is, I've learned to try and own that fear instead of being owned by it.

Okay, so I'm scared.

Everyone is.

Writing this post is nerve-racking, but it's also freeing. I think, that maybe for the first time in my life, I can accept that the world will never be perfect - that I will never be perfect. It's a sad acknowledgement, but also a good one. Maybe I can start moving forward now.

Best of all, all this honesty really fuels my writing.

For those of you who follow me on Instagram, you might remember a post from last fall, where I talked about filling my therapy journal, and how that journal helped me avoid another depression.

I guess this post is next level.

I'm working on a huge project now; a fantasy trilogy I've been at for years, which I have huge ambitions for.

Four years ago I swore to myself I'd have the first novel published by the time I turned thirty. Seems that goal is looking a little bleak now.

But:

I am finally starting to believe that I can write it. It's scary as fuck, and I've no clue what to do with the material once I'm finished (Norwegian publishers don't take english manuscripts from non-profiled writers), but at least I will have written the damn thing.

The major point is: By learning to be honest with myself, I have also begun to find my voice; to come into my own.

And that is what matters.