The One Where I Start Again
On the specific cowardice of quitting something you love, and what finally brought me back.
The truth about coming back after a long time away: I have rewritten the opener to this post no fewer than twelve times.
I tried “So, I’ve been gone for a while.” Too casual, like I forgot to text back. I tried “A lot has changed since I last wrote.” Nothing has actually changed. I live in the same apartment. I have the same cold brew order. I tried something that sounded so inspiring I almost convinced myself I’d grown as a person, and then I deleted it because it wasn’t true. And I gave myself the ick.
So here’s what is true.
I stopped writing because life got loud and I got tired and somewhere along the way I lost the thread of what I was even trying to say. I’d have an idea for a post, open a draft, and then think: this is absolute dog shit. And then I’d close the laptop and put on something on Netflix. This happened enough times that eventually I stopped opening the drafts at all. I got more caught up in writing something that was on fire instead of just writing.
It’s not a dramatic story. Nobody got hurt. I just quietly quit a thing I actually loved, which turns out to be one of the more cowardly things you can do.
The reason I’m back is simpler than I wanted it to be. I missed it. Not in the vague ‘I miss that’ way. The specific, annoying kind. As soon as the words didn’t come to me, I instantly got disinterested and went doom scrolling. Or worse… I would get far on a piece, then it would fall apart and get sent to my Notion graveyard. I missed having a place to work things out in words.
There’s also this: I turn 30 in February.
I know that’s eight months away, which sounds like a lot of time, except it also kind of feels like nothing. I keep looking at the gap between here and there and thinking that if I’m going to figure out what I want to be doing when that time comes, I probably shouldn’t spend the whole time on my phone.
I want to build something real. Something that’s mine. And I’d been waiting to feel ready. Great way to never start anything.
So this is me, starting again.
Same niche as before, I think. The slow, sometimes funny, occasionally painful work of becoming someone you actually like. The stuff that doesn’t make the highlight reel. The gap between who you want to be and who you are on a random Tuesday.
The last year of my twenties feels like a good time for that. I want to be clear… I’m not spiraling about 30. But I do think there’s something worth actually paying attention to here, and I’d rather write about it than not.
I’m not going to promise I’ll be perfectly consistent, because I said something like that last time and you know what happened. ADHD at its finest. What I will say is that I have something to write toward now. That’s new. A question I keep coming back to: what do I actually want to take with me into whatever comes next?
I don’t have an answer yet. But I’m going to keep showing up until I do.
If you’re new here, welcome. If you’ve been here since the beginning, thank you for still being here and for not quietly unsubscribing sometime in December when it became obvious I’d disappeared.
More soon. Starting with next week, which is already more than I promised last time.
— Syd