It’s Sunday night.
As I’m typing these words, I’m consumed by a special bout of Sunday Blues. You know the kind—the one that comes with being on the verge of a new chapter. You’re going to bed tonight, and you will wake up in the morning to step into your new life.
Needless to say, I’m nervous. But I’m equally curious. How will these new experiences change me? In what ways can I push the boundaries of my comfort zone? What kind of person am I going to be at the end of this journey?
If I’ve learned one thing over the years is that everything in life happens in phases. Part of me will forever be frantically searching for a thread of stability to hold onto, but as soon as I think to have found one, it gets cut, and I get thrown into the deep end of life.
And now, I’m starting to think that maybe the secret is to just learn to enjoy floating. To accept. To surrender. To observe the clouds. And to just let yourself be taken wherever you’re apparently supposed to be taken. Trusting that you’ll figure it out on the way.
In a way, that’s what happened for me over the last months. I ended up writing a book I didn’t expect myself to write. It only saw the light of day because I let myself float, giving myself fully to the current that took me to a place filled with creativity and inspiration.
Writing a novel hasn’t once felt like an “active” laborious activity. I would describe it closer to “interactive reading.” You’re uncovering a story, word by word, shaping and reshaping it. Like chiselling a marble statue. It’s already there; you’re only freeing it.
While I do hope to publish this book in the following year, I almost couldn’t care less if I manage to. Working on this book has given me so much; even as a writer, I find it hard to put it into words.
In a way, this book isn’t a product of mine; rather, the person I am today is the product of this book. It’s shaped me more than I have shaped it.
As there are with any creative process, there have been the typical ups and downs. And contrary to other media, writing a book is really not sexy. It mainly consists of doing a lot of staring and a little bit of typing.
But eventually, that little bit of typing amounts to 200+ pages, and somehow you’ve written your first manuscript. Finishing the first draft felt like a relief. Rereading that draft was a nightmare. Now, I can look back with a little more grace and fondness; in the moment, the perfectionist in me was bleeding out.
It was humbling to say the least, but more importantly, it taught me a thing or two about how to handle the perfectionist in me. Because I can wholeheartedly say that I don’t care that this manuscript isn’t perfect; it never will be. But it’s finished. And I’ll take finished over perfect but unfinished any day.
And I’m glad I persisted, because the fruits of this labour are sweet. All the personal growth and reflections I experienced aside, it’s turned into a beautiful cord of connection. An excuse for me to (re)connect with a handful of people, trusting them with the words I have so carefully selected and marked with digital ink.
It’s been giving me the type of connection I’m yearning for. It warms my heart to see someone taking time out of their busy day to dedicate to me and my words, to hear their thoughts, and to have discussions sparked by that.
In my mind, it contrasts the shallowness of the depicted connection on social media. Someone liking your story doesn’t mean they care about you. Someone leaving you a comment doesn’t mean they want to connect with you. A follower doesn’t equal a friend.
To be clear, I’m not condemning social media. I’ve just become more protective of my attention and energy. I’m in a phase of life where I find the idea of keeping up with so many people exhausting. What is my brain to do with all of that information? It’s loud and overwhelming when everyone is trying to cut through the noise while you’re looking for a piece of silence.
Really, it’s been lovely to live off the grid. I’m savouring the little moments in my life more simply because I have the capacity to do so. Yes, I make it harder for people to keep in touch with me. No, it hasn’t hurt the relationships with people I care about in my life.
Where am I going with this?
I’m not suggesting you say goodbye to social media. But I am encouraging you to befriend some moments of silence in between. You don’t want to be so busy living online that you miss the current pulling you into a different direction within.
This is the first piece of writing that I’m sharing unedited with no further thought; if you’ve read this far, maybe there’s something in it that resonates with you. Maybe there’s something in you that’s been trying to tell you something. Is there?
As for me, I’m now trying to figure out how I can fit the pieces of what I believe make up me into a new chapter of life. Luckily, I enjoy playing Tetris.
But also, maybe the question really is—when you strip it all down to your unadorned, naked core, what of you is left? What truly are the pieces that make up what and who you are?
And maybe, this new phase isn’t about piecing myself together at all, but simply about learning how to float with more trust. I have a feeling I will find out.
As always, stay creative xo
Jenny
Loved to read this! 🫶