Recently, WordPress reminded me that it’s been two years since I started She’s A Seeker. This was my first ever post. I remember how terrified I was pressing ‘Publish’.
In that time, I’ve quit jobs, been broke, got another job, had my heart broken, moved cities and in with my parents, become a dog mumma, quit yet another job, left my dog (in very loving hands) and the country, to travel. Priorities have changed, my perspectives have completely shifted, and now I feel like the strongest, most authentic version of myself.
But, of course, that’s not quite the start of this story.
I began writing regularly in primary school. It was compulsory for us to keep a journal and depending on how many pages we wrote, we would enter a lucky dip for medals. These medals were tiny pieces of brass with catholic saints carved onto them. The most coveted medal was St Mary, patron saint of our school. Most of us were actually willing to sacrifice our home made lunches and even allowances for her. Kids are so weird and wonderful.
I loved writing, I loved words, I loved books. I still do. I’m that person that seeks out vintage book stores wherever I am so I can be in the company of words. I caress the embossed book covers, smell the inside, and read the personal notes etched onto the pages. I guess, my weird never left me.
My late teens to early 20s went pretty well. At around 24 though I unexpectedly found myself living a life that felt contrived and completely fabricated. I grew unhappy and as I did, I abandoned my words. They terrified me. They held truths my ego was not ready to accept.
As I withdrew from my words, I detached from myself completely. There was so much chaos inside of me, that I existed in this perpetual haze. I no longer knew how I felt, what I believed in and who I was.
I longed for just one thing – my words. It was a constant battle between the incessant need to write and an apparent inability to do so. Some days I would work up the courage, sit at my desk, open my journal, only to experience a sudden urge to be physically ill. There was so much I had to reconcile within me, that I just couldn’t bare it.
I didn’t know how I would do it, I just knew I had to.
I started by turning to the google Gods. On good days, I would type in search terms like “curing writer’s block”, “why can’t I write”, “writing prompts”. Then on other days, it escalated to “what the fuck am I doing” ,”why am I so unhappy”, “how to be happy,”, “should I quit my job”, “why am I such an ungrateful shit”. I came across articles that I guessed were designed to motivate the masses with headlines like “6 things to do that will make you happy” and “9 simple steps to follow your passion”.
After reading these articles and their seemingly simple steps to fixing my life, I actually felt more screwed. I couldn’t even remember happiness, and I was just trying to figure out how to get out of bed most mornings, so you could say I wasn’t passionate about much. I was becoming convinced that I was alone in this experience, and that there was something tragically wrong with me.
Just as I was resigning myself to this doom, I traversed over to another side of the internet, a side where I felt more at home. I discovered new perspectives, ideas and teachings through other people’s willingness to share their own stories. They spoke and wrote of struggle and perseverance, suffering, acceptance and triumph. Of their fears, doubts, leaps, failures, breakdowns and breakthroughs. They had this innate ability to call a spade a spade and a shit situation, just that. There were no simple steps, in fact, they would reiterate that there was nothing simple about it.
Their stories pulled me out of my isolation. I grew more understanding and empathetic toward myself. It was through their courage to learn and own their truths, that inspired me to do the same.
I knew I had to put pen to paper.
At first, it was sporadic. There was so much resistance, the anxiety stronger than ever. Each and every word, came out shaky and hesitant, as if they no longer trusted me. But by then, I had learned that creativity, isn’t easy. It requires effort, commitment, practice, discipline and pushing through the resistance. So, I kept turning up at my desk. I had decided that my words didn’t even have to make sense, they just had to be written.
It was an incredibly arduous, painful journey but my words began to trust me again. They no longer felt judged. Instead, they were welcomed, accepted and celebrated. I didn’t want my words to be like anyone else’s, they were just mine, and it was only my story they would tell. I just kept writing for me.
Over the course of two years or so, writing again became something I would retreat to, just as I used to as a kid. I would read back my own entries. They told me stories of regrets, fears, disappointments, mistakes and failures. Then gradually, they began to speak of dreams, of love, hope, and faith.
She’s A Seeker was conceived out of my reconciliation with my words and my Self.
My intentions, and my motivations, are just as clear now, as when I started this blog. I write because I need my words more than anyone else does. I write because without my words, I’m not me.
I came here because I wanted to know what it felt to truly belong to me, to own every part of my story, irrespective of its reception. Deep down, I also wanted to pay it forward. My life changed and continues to evolve because of someone else’s willingness to share their truth. I didn’t want to be afraid to share mine.
And as I’ve done so, I’ve been overwhelmed by the continued support I’ve received. I am genuinely grateful for every single one of you for being here. Thank you for sharing your kindness, insight, wisdom, and your most genuine selves with me. It’s your stories of heartbreak, fears, doubts, hope, faith, courage, perseverance, and triumph that inspire me most.
I’m reminded every day, I’m not alone, we are not alone. I’m incredibly proud to belong to this community and I will always feel immense gratitude to have been so welcomed, right from my very first post.
To my words, thank you for not giving up on me even when I had. Thank you for allowing me to seek and meet with my truth. It’s my promise to you that I will always be willing to show up.
I wish all of you the very best on your own respective journeys. Power and light to you all.
With immense gratitude and love,
She’s A Seeker.