I last graced this blog with a post in April. Over half of a year. Eight months. Thirty four weeks. Two hundred thirty eight days. I intended to write most of these weekends. But I kept somehow pushing this back, further and further. Until one day, I wasn’t trying to continue writing, but to start again. I had reached the point where I could no longer think of myself as actively writing.
The shift from asking myself to start writing instead of continuing gave me a new perspective. I stepped back from things like getting an audience. Or even if the quality of my writing was getting better (and how was I measuring that anyway?). I started to ask myself why I started writing, and stopped worrying about making progress.
Why do I write?
For this blog, I’m trying to work through the problems in my life, and help other people do the same. An audience would be nice, but that’s secondary. I’m much more interested in making a difference to the people I know and care about (sorry internet people). As for the quality of my writing, I’ve made some marginal gains. But I wasn’t focused on this even when I was writing. I had judged writing poorly; focused on all of the things that I wasn’t making progress on, even if they weren’t important to me.
But is it worthwhile?
But that leads to more questions: is that still my goal? Yes! Does blogging help me to process my emotions, and give better advice to my friends and family? It’s hard to say. I felt more on top of things when I was blogging compared to the period when I had stopped. However, causation could flow the other way. Maybe I kept up with blogging because I was more on top of things, instead of the reverse. I suspect it’s a bit of both: healthy habits help you become more mindful, and being more mindful helps you to build healthy habits. And with that unsatisfying answer, I’m going to give writing another try.