It’s hard to create something that no one reads/watches/sees/listens to. It’s hard to put something out into the world in general, but even harder when there’s no one there on the other side. It feels isolating. In my case, it makes me not want to write — to not even do the thing that I have tried so desperately to dedicate my life to.
The goal of this blog has changed many times. I am aware. It started as a way to share in post-graduate terror and my fear of the real world. It morphed into something else. Now, I think it is safe to say, it is fairly directionless, because I feel fairly directionless. Lately, no one has been reading. It’s happened before, and I’ve gotten out of the slump before, mostly by just waiting it out. I try to remember that it’s not always me. Sometimes it is, but not always. Sometimes it’s just a weird twist of fate that I just have to deal with. It might be that no one ever reads one of my posts again. It might mean that I’ve lost all ability to write well, to write anything at all that means something to someone else. Maybe I’ve become too egotistical and self-centered in my writing, so much so that no one else can relate. Maybe no one cares. All of these thoughts are floating around in my head right now. It makes me not want to write.
But I still do. It’s all one big free-write on here. I can write about whatever I want and I like that. I can write it however I want. I can write as often or as little as I want. None of it has to be perfect and polished. So if this site is just for me, then why am I so concerned when I see that no one is reading?
It’s because deep down, I know that I started this site to connect with people. I like the other blogs that I follow. I like doing dumb things like answering questionnaires and rambling about my day. I don’t necessarily share my posts on my personal Facebook. It’s not that I don’t want my friends and family to see it, it’s more just because this whole blogosphere feels like a separate circle where I can share things I would normally keep to myself.
Overall, it has been good to me. And I’m going to keep doing it. Sure, I feel like a failure. But I’m hoping that will pass. Maybe I am directionless, but that does not mean what I have to say is pointless. Maybe the writing is not the best, but that was never my intention.
If there’s one thing I have learned about the real world, it is that I am going to fail a lot. It feels as though since graduating, I’ve done nothing but fail. The only person that can truly hold me accountable is myself, and I let me down too many times to count. I’m frustrated that I have yet to figure out what I want to do with my life. I am frustrated that sometimes I feel like my writing is getting worse, rather than better the more I do it. I am frustrated that I don’t have a “real” job yet and that I can’t just be content with my life, even though some people would love to have my privilege. I’m failing at all these things and this week, I am feeling the let down of it all at once. So much so, that it is difficult to move forward from this point.
I don’t want this feeling of failure to be all that life has to offer. Somewhere deep down I know that it’s not, but right now at the surface, all I can think about is how I haven’t had that first success yet. Not in my relationships, not in my career, not in my self-esteem. It doesn’t feel like “two steps forward, one step back.” It feels like “one step back, and another, and another and another and another . . . ” on and on infinitely.
It’s hard to pull yourself out of the hole. We determine our own goals, our own expectations for ourselves. My own failure is ultimately determined by me and me alone. I can only grant myself permission to fail, as long as I continue to allow myself to try and try again. The ultimate failure, to me, is to completely stop doing what I love, especially out of fear of failure. I’ve done it before. I don’t want it to happen again.
So I feel like a failure this week. But, ultimately, I’m not done yet.