I’ve come to realize that doing more sometimes feels like being less.
The more opportunities that enter my space that pull and drain me of my creativity, the more I’m understanding how important it is to have an outside source just for me. A quiet place for reflection, that doesn’t ask me for research or citations, sources or poetic language to smooth an intro into the body and help with its flow. The demand is different, so still that it’s quieted to an urge. And that’s what’s led me here. To this space. A corner of the Internet that’s all mine.
When I created my now-defunct personal blog, The Indie Byline, that was what she was supposed to be.
But then I got caught up with pageviews and keeping up with the next blogger that seemed to be adorned with sponsorships. I don’t knock my blessings or the doors that it opened for me, but it was never exactly what I needed it to be. I would take vacations away despite its purpose of being that island of solitude – where I reconnected, where I regained my sense of self.
I yearn to be one of those people who can purchase a decadent journal and write until their heart is content – giving words, bleeding confessions, whispering insecurities, spilling vulnerabilities. I’ve always wanted to be that sort of person. But I find I’m so much more honest when I my fingers are stationed in their proper place on the keyboard. I have quite a few journals now, gold-tinged pages, decadent and elegant as ever.
But they don’t inspire me to write in them, and just sit in my nightstand or on my dresser drawer – nearly as hollow as the day I first purchased them. Neglected and unused.
I see myself more here. I feel myself more.
I’ve decided that for all intents and purposes, this will now be my space. The place I go to get away from it all, and the space that becomes my home.
When I forget who I am, this is where I will be reminded.
I am amazed at the sense of ease I feel already just by admitting to myself and to the world aloud.
This is my home, now.