the unabridged reader

Unfurling the sails of my writing journey

I am wallowing in so much regret and self-pity for abandoning my first love. And for what? For years of misdirection, stagnation, and even worse— regression?

I am a daughter of an English Major. My childhood was filled with different types of children’s literature. Growing older, my tastes evolved from Peter Rabbit to Jane Eyre. I also fell deeply in love with poetry that in my brief writing season, I churned poetry the most. And looking back to my written works as a teenager, objectively, I know I had the makings of a strong writer. But I burned all my potential to the ground. Like a bitter ex-lover torching all evidences of a failed love.

Presently, I comfort myself in the knowledge that writers can’t pour from an empty cup. And my life experiences can perhaps make up for the lost time that I could have built my skills. I may not have held a pen for years, but my brain has been holding years of heartbreak, hope, desolation, anticipation, disappointment, and more.

Nonetheless, no amount of self pep talk is enough to comfort my panicking mind. Between the time I abandoned writing and now, I constantly find myself in the following cycle:
One— I explore an interest; dipping my toes in the water… then to my knees… up to my waist… but by the time it gets to my chest?
Two— I feel overwhelmed by seeing other people in the same industry who is far ahead of me.
So Three— instead of swimming and diving forward, I dip out. I fumble with my legs, the water going over my head, as my anxiety and overthinking overrides reason. On three, regrettably, I swim back to shore.
Four— I traverse along the sand, looking longingly across the horizon where the sun meets the sea; envyingly watching others swim, dive, surf, even paraglide.

It’s not a good cycle. It is exhausting. It is soul-draining. And I’m desperate to get out of it. It feels like a sinkhole keeps swallowing me whole, only for it to regurgitate me out, as it keeps saying to me, “Go! Chase your dreams! Get out there! Look for your potential!”

And what’s a woman to do, really? A woman persists. With a surety that is stronger and mightier than what I had in my previous endeavours, I’ve decided that I am no longer swimming to sea.

I’ve packed my reignited passion, my life experiences, my books, and my pen. I am ready— not to swim, but to sail across the sea.