Why I Stopped Writing — and Why I’m Starting Again

I’m back! The time has come for me to find my voice. Again. There was a time when writing felt like breathing – it came naturally, and I had an abundance of ideas spilling out of my head.

After a while it started to feel heavy and the voices in my head took over. It started to feel like something I should do, rather than a reflection and expression of who I am. Not to mention I started to feel as though so many people were writing about what I was writing about, and what made my voice, my words any different to theirs? Essentially, I had a crisis of confidence. I tried to find my voice in other things but lost it among the world instead.

Also, life…lifed. And there was Covid. Covid didn’t change my life in the slightest, which was the first warning sign that something was amiss. I, of course, ignored it and continued to work because what else was there to do?

Somewhere in the past six years, I stopped listening to myself and allowed myself to get bogged down in the mundanity of life. I’ve basically just functioned as a human, slowly disconnected from life, and shunned being present. I’ve been avoidant, choosing to work more, then hating myself for it, yet unable to say no (ironic considering my setting boundaries post in 2020).

I’m still in that part of my life, but slowly (extremely slowly) getting back to enjoying life. Or at least trying to find my way back.

So, besides work, what else have I been doing? I recently achieved a Distinction in a Creative Writing Masters, which I’m very happy with. I worked hard. I also cried. A lot. By the end, I had given up on the distinction – I just wanted the MA over!

I have learned more about myself – mostly through discomfort, exhaustion, and the quiet sense that something wasn’t aligned anymore. Purposely, I shrunk my world and I’ve been functioning from my comfort zone (work and home), a place I outgrew a long time ago, but can’t quite let go of. I mean, ease = peace, right? Wrong! It equals boredom and the slow bubbling of irritability at meeting everyone else’s needs and ignoring my own.

I started noticing how drained I’ve become trying to live a life that looks fine on the outside but feels misaligned on the inside. Rushing past my feelings, my needs, and my voice has severely dimmed my light. Not to sound dramatic (ha!), but it feels as though the past few years has drained the soul out of me.

Then one day as I was tumbling about the void of despair, I looked back at this blog, and a shimmer of something stirred within me. I remembered how I felt writing the posts and how pleased it made me even if one person got something positive from it. I realised that writing is not about having the answers, it’s about being honest.

So, I’m starting again, and I’m learning how to make space for me, and how to listen.

I want Mindfully Untitled to become a quiet space for thoughtful growth, honesty, and living with a little more awareness, a space for people to discover more of themselves.

I don’t know where this will lead, but I know it’s time to speak again.

Thank you all for being on this journey with me as I tentatively put one foot in front of the other and try to forge a new, more aligned path.

Be happy. Be you.