I Write Because I Need To

and other reasons.

Photo by Simran Sood on Unsplash

I was awake 4:30 am today for the third day in a row. Life seems overwhelming right now. My mind is in a maze, and I am going to write and see where it takes me. Writing is therapy for me, and I probably won’t publish this (or maybe I will). Why? Because it’s easier to rant to strangers who may or may not read. Hopefully they will scan my writing at best. Let’s be honest here. Most of us have attention spans of a gnat with constant social media vying for our attention. I am guilty of this myself.

Google Forms were my 4 am worry today. My business seems to be swallowing me up again. All the administrative work is overwhelming at times. I will have to hire out. This will be yet another decision to make. I miss the paper forms and the days I could do 15 pet sitting stops in a day and feel like I was on top of the world. That is sustainable for only so long. Burnout and physical symptoms finally hit me a few years ago. My body whispered until it screamed and stopped me in its tracks.

Dopamine

Part of me wants to blow it all up and escape somewhere because I can’t think straight. What do I do when that happens? I go here to write or scroll online. Looking for that dopamine hit. There is the visceral thinking that now, I will be seen somehow. That little girl inside still aches. I tell myself those dopamine hits will somehow cured me this time, until I need to go back for more. It’s numbing my mind until my brain power will cease to exist. I think it’s happening now.

What do I want to do? Write. Daydream. Write and scroll. Am I living in my head or am I trapped?

Follow your passion they say. Yeah, right! Can I make money from writing? Very little. My writing on Substack isn’t about money, but I think of all of the time I’ve spent writing here. Most of it was for connection, to have a platform for my writing and to tell my story. Maybe to make it understood when I can’t understand it myself half of the time. I have close to 500 posts now, yet where am I? Oh, right. I am being overtaken by slop. We all are.

Blowing it all up

Sometimes I feel like blowing it up (not sure what “it” is) and running away. Not literally though, of course. Then I would still be there with my swirling mind or would I finally have peace? Maybe the moment I put my phone down I will finally find it. My anxiety is what I need to run away from, but it’s there no matter where I go.

My phone and computer are both there calling me. Again. Appointments to make, clients to schedule, and stuff that creeps in. Reels, and all of that slop; and “content” that reminds me that I’m not enough. It’s almost like I’m looking for it to say you are not worthy. Yet, I keep digging deeper into the wound and it bleeds again. It’s like it need “them” to confirm I’m not worthy, not enough and I deserve the self-punishment. I can search all day and never find the answers. I know inside the answers were never there in the first place.

Born to write?

What was I born to do? Write. It’s my passion and has been since I was old enough to put words together. It’s very difficult to make a career from it so I never tried. I worked clerical jobs; I was a hair stylist for over 20 years and now a self-employed pet sitter.

I started on Substack to write to tell my stories, and it consumed me. I’ve had a total of 8 paid subscribes here. Which is 8 more than I ever expected. I have made connections; I have discovered many writers and talent. Now I wonder what is real.

I have sold 75 copies of my book “The Scripted Stalker”. It needs promotion but I don’t know where to start. Marketing. The “m” word. I have written other books I published as well that I can count on one hand with sales per book.

My business that pays the bills seems overwhelming to me right now as it and yet I keep writing. Why? Because I need to? Because this is a midlife crisis? Both?

Unraveling or pivoting?

Am I unraveling or am I morphing into something new? A pivot? (I hate that word). Maybe, I am though.

This is the end of my rant. If you read this far, thanks. If you scanned it, that’s Ok too. Or is it?

Questions:

How many posts do you actually read on Substack or do you hit like randomly? Do you scan and hit like? Gloss over? Listen on audio?

Do you read my work? Do I want to know? I end up listening to many posts here as I drive for work. Then I get pissed off if it’s slop, but I’m driving and I’m stuck listening to it.