Where is My Writing Going?

Writing every single week has been frustrating as of late.

When you go four and a half (nearly five) years writing about where you’re at, how you’re doing, or what you think you want to improve on, it all just gets into your head at times at how little you feel you are growing as a person. It feels so often like you’re in a rat race with yourself at times just to make it clear to yourself that you can in fact become the level-headed or mature person you know you can be. It’s as if, week by week, you are working through the ebbs and flows of life, where there’s something here that remains a constant force in pushing me to be self-critical.

Writing for so long, over two hundred weeks has felt challenging as of late. It’s not that I don’t have many things to think through for myself, or that I don’t think I have the capacity to make sincere comments about where I’m at; rather, I am growing more and more anxious about how much of my reflections I want to share with the world. I’ve been contemplating how I can best use and recognize the possibilities of still writing for the blog in a genuine way to myself, especially when I know people that do not know me will read. It was always a project that served my life, but I always was appreciative of friends or family that would check in on it.