Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash
I’m feeling particularly uninspired with my writing. It feels like I’m simply rewriting the same stories every time.
Granted, I probably feel that more than anyone actually reading. One article a week is but a drop in the ocean, considering how much information we are constantly consuming. It’s probably actually a good thing that I repeat myself, else any key message quickly gets lost.
Yet I’m also just fatigued about talking on the same subjects. I seem to either be giving live updates around my health, or talking about the accompanying mental difficulties.
Of course, no one is actually obliging me to write articles. I’ve been doing this for over five years now, and I’m not totally sure why I still do. It’s now become as much a routine as something that has a clear purpose.
I suppose it’s always been an outlet to whatever is going on in my mind. It that sense it brings some sense of peace. Yet what started with a lofty ambitions of informing and guiding people has dissipated. Before, I felt like I had something to say that people needed to hear. Now, I feel like I’m a whisper in the midst of a hurricane.
Partly this is because I feel less sure of my own wisdom. That happens when life hits hard, but it also comes with the realisation of how little I really know. But more crucially, I’ve become fatigued by people who have no desire to listen. Many people have no idea what I’m talking about, and even if they do, the topics are too scary to ever confront.
It’s hard to tell whether I’m genuinely wiser, or whether I’ve just become bitter. My previous articles were so heavy in interpretation and meaning making – I was constantly looking for an explanation. Now, I’ve stopped trying to make sense of everything. It makes life more peaceful. Perhaps this is a healthier, more stoic way at looking at life. Yet there was also an essence of magic that comes with the energy or reaction and interpretation.
Maybe I’m also just reading too much into it all. It’s natural that my writing has turned slow and somber when that’s what I’m currently living. My writing has always reflected what is going on with me, and the reality is that right now, very little is happening.
Frustratingly, I don’t think I will know the answer, until (or perhaps, if) my life situation changes. Either I will recover, and this will be the most formative period of my life, or it will be my new normal.