Midyear reflection: the things I’ve learnt
A personal essay
Ciao!
I’m always a bit rusty when I’m back writing this letter after a short break. In all honesty, I’d written another letter on the usual variety of topics: trends, culture, niche observations I find interesting. And yet, sharing that letter today didn’t feel honest. It felt like I was putting on a voice, a suit, a well-worn armour of quips and wit and play that I just didn’t feel like today.
Writing has always been, first and foremost, a personal practice. It’s been the truest connection to myself that I’ve ever known. I’ve written for as long as I can remember. I would make up stories before I could even hold a pen. My mother would write them down for me. I must’ve been three at the time.
For all the years preceding this one, I would write to process my thoughts, my feelings, the world around me. I would write as therapy – in addition to going to actual therapy. Somehow, writing my thoughts has always been easier than speaking them.
I’ve never been good at speaking vulnerably. Strange, I know, because I speak so much. But most often, I speak on other topics: things I’ve observed, opinions I have. Much of my internal landscape is only spoken with the self-assuredness of hindsight. Writing is where I can be most vulnerable.
I’ve never self-identified as a journalist, although I guess, now, I am one. But a writer? That moniker has always felt most natural. To be a writer is so integral to my sense of self; an expression that has always felt most true.
When I began writing again as a profession, just shy of 12 months ago, I stopped writing from that personal place. Writing and reading became work, the age-old curse felt by many working creatives.
I also became astutely aware that my writing was a product. The brand builder in me loves to build a world, create a voice, elicit a feeling. The one I’ve created here, our gorgeous Office, is a true refuge. It’s a world that exists in my imagination as much as it does in my real life. It’s idyllic, idealistic, and connects me with those feelings of expansion and liberation that I hope it does for you.
It’s playful, and in parts, personal. But I always keep a boundary: an energetic awareness of what I do and don’t share. Every once in a while, that boundary breaks. Suddenly, to share personally and vulnerably is the only thing I can, and want, to do.
I guess today is one of those days for me.
