Hindsight is 20/24

I read somewhere that the only reason to look back is to see how far we’ve come. But I think there are other reasons too. Especially when we’re feeling lost. Or itchy to discover what’s next.

As a kid, I never kept a diary. I was too afraid my nosy mother would find it and criticize my private thoughts. And as an adult, I never kept a journal. I became too self conscious—or maybe too egotistical—to record my musings for no other reader but me. It all felt too precious.

So the only thing I have to re-read is my blog.

Twenty-five years ago, long before my blog, I studied and wrote short fiction. I went to workshops, won a contest, and earned my MFA in creative writing. Over about a decade, I pitched my work to university journals and literary magazines. Every story I wrote was eventually published—until I ran out of material. I considered collecting my work and making a book, but as a white woman living in relative comfort, my material felt irrelevant by the early 2000s. And so did I. So I gave up.

Or did I? 

When we stop doing something we love, or that was (or is) important to us, it can feel like giving up. But if we make the decision consciously, we’ll see that we’re actually making room for other things. Creative things. Physical things. Silly things. Human things. 

But we can’t know until we let go. Until we open ourselves to what comes next.

Over the past six-and-a-half years, I’ve written and posted 150 stories that are super short but true. My blog began as a desperate attempt to stay connected to the world and feel relevant. It all snuck up on me, but looking back, I see that as I discovered new things and figured out my shit in public, I was hoping others might also be brave and try new things.

But I’m noticing that I’ve run out of steam again. I haven’t written much lately. Nor have I dipped naked at a hot spring, slept in my camper van, gone on first dates with strangers, rented a house at the beach, or played at improv on a big stage. I haven’t climbed a rock face, been on a silent retreat, sketched a self-portrait, or swam in the sea. Though I’ve been doing other new things, I miss all that. And I miss that girl.

So, I went back and read all my blogs. I saw things I had forgotten, and things I never knew. I saw fear and loneliness and pain. I saw hope. I saw the sweep of self-discovery. I saw beauty in our common frailty.

For the first time, I saw a narrative arc. I saw a book! 

So instead of writing new posts, I’m giving shape and form to what I’ve already got in front of me. Instead of worrying that having a boyfriend and steady work are making me soft, I guess I’ll put my faith in the universe again. 

I have no idea what this next phase of life will bring, or if I’ll finish this new project I’m starting. But I do know that becoming overly attached to anything, or anyone, is a terrible idea.

And we can learn a lot from taking a break.