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Finding My Writer’s Voice Again

Once upon a time, in what seems like a lifetime ago, I used to blog.

It was my safe, happy place where I would sit at my laptop, ignore the chaos around me, and just write. I’d write about my day, craft projects I’d tackled, and I’d muse about spirituality.

This was a time before social media. Before the blogger was replaced by the influencer. Back in the day when blogging felt like being part of a community and friendships, through blogs, were formed.

This was before writing seemed so hard and I became terrified.

My digital altar no longer felt sacred.

I packed it up and shut it down.

And part of me went away with it.

I haven’t really bonded with social media. I don’t like the constant algorithm changes that push for more and more content with rewards of seemingly less reach. I don’t want to learn a new strategy every week to compete for views. I’m too old and it’s too tiring.

I want something meaningful. Something slower. Something that sounds a lot like fingers tapping on a keyboard.

I’ve been thinking about writing regularly again for some time but I’d let my doubts and fears creep in. I’d almost write a blog post and then I’d procrastinate. I’ve been toying with Substack for more than a year.

It seems like such a simple thing to decide to do – write a post and hit publish. But my mind reminds me that I have nothing worth saying, and a well of emptiness can’t sustain a longer-term writing commitment (to self). Why start something I can’t finish?

There’s another part that remembers the joy of expressing oneself through words and how cathartic it was to get my thoughts out of my head and onto digital paper.

So, I’m dipping one toe into the water here again.

Could this be my new writing space? Could I be happy here? Shall I find out?

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