Journaling: What have been my highs and lows?

It has been almost two months since I started writing this blog, and documenting our travel tales. I feel like I have found a vessel for my creativity that had been lying dormant within me for years. Like I’d always had this itch, and didn’t quite know how to scratch it. Like something was trying to explode within me, and I just needed to find a release. And all it took was me, a computer and a project to offload the many, many ideas buzzing around my head and pulsing through my heart. It is literally like a download of my brain into this blog. It is both a humbling and liberating past time.

I was super nervous to start writing my stories and could barely sleep when I was getting ready for the launch. The adrenaline rushed around inside me, and that niggling voice in my head pointed out all the things that could go wrong. I am not used to baring my innermost thoughts in public, or putting them out there for scrutiny. I am, and have always been, rather a private person.

What if people didn’t like it? What if I said the wrong thing? What if it all failed? 

I was more worried about what other people thought than what I thought. Or than what I needed. And through this whole process, I have come to realise one thing. 

The only person who needs to believe in you, is you. 

The more I write, the more I can write. The more I find that voice within, the more I can express these memories and the better I am able to offload the years of thoughts that have tumbled around my mind, sometimes night after night, sometimes during a car journey and sometimes whilst walking along a blissfully uncrowded, locked down beach.

Tonight I thought about the day when my children will be old enough to read these stories. I mean, really read them. Perhaps they’ll one day plan a trip back to Singapore, or Malaysia and re-read the blog when they are there.

What will they think reading them? Will they remember? Will the stories make them happy? Or inspired?

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Well that just fills my heart with magic. And happiness. Like I am able to offer them a glimpse into my soul at this time, and a software update for their own memories when they have forgotten them themselves. 

There have already been ups and downs in this experience and I have already learnt so much. I’m learning again how every journey in life is a rollercoaster, a loop the loop, and you need to remember, that when you’re on your way up, you will come back down. 

But more importantly, when you’re on your way down, you will come back up again. 

Some days I don’t feel like writing. Some weeks I can’t find a single fluid thought in my head. Like last week. It was tough for many reasons and I just didn’t have the brain space to think about writing. And then some days, the ideas spill over the bowl, in the shower, in bed, in the car….. and I cannot get them down quickly enough. 

As a child, my handwriting used to be shocking and sloppy. My Mum bought me some of those handwriting books and made me copy out parts of reading books to try to improve it. But it was still pretty poor. And when starting Secondary School, I was placed in low sets for most subjects based on the assessment of my ability from my Primary School. I honestly believe now that my mind worked faster than my hand could write. And I just needed to get those thoughts down, sloppy vowels and all. It didn’t really matter in the end, I sort of managed to make it legible, and ended up with a string of A grade qualifications. 

Like I said. The only person who needs to believe in you, is you. 

Some days I try to write a story and it just doesn’t go anywhere. It’s just not the night or I’m just not in the right place, and I just can’t come up with the goods. And then there are nights like tonight. When I’ve spent hours on one story, only to not complete it, and then, out of nowhere, I get this completely different thread of a thought in my head. 

And the words tumble out of my mind and into written word, without pause. And then I know, once I’ve got this down, and out of my mind, downloaded, all the other stories will flow like water. 

I’m not sure why it took me so long to realise that writing was my thing, my release. I am nearing 40 so why did I never discover it sooner ? I mean, I even studied English Literature at A-Level and thought I was hopeless at creative writing. I was lacking in ideas and never knew what to write about. 

I suppose, I’d also not had many life experiences. So I had nothing to write about. 

Except the story I wrote about my grandfather when I was sixteen. It was for my GCSE English Language coursework and the title was Grandparents. My paternal grandfather passed away when I was just ten months old, and I grew up with wonderful stories of him, everyone I ever met told me how I looked just like him. And how he was the most kind and gentle soul they had ever known. So I wrote my story about him. I really wish I still had it now. When my teacher handed it back, she said to the whole class,

“This brought a tear to my eye. What a lovely story, you should all read it.”

At which point I turned a shade of scarlet and sank back into my seat. Whilst also feeling an incredible sense of pride. I think that’s the only other time I have ever written a story that was real. But I really struggled with creative writing in school, and then sort of gave up and wrote myself off as not good enough. 

I guess all I needed was some inspiration. Travelling has given me heaps of that. 

I’m sure I’m not the only person who has learned things about themselves over this last, crazy year. Things they never even expected. My Dad shared one of those viral WhatsApp videos with me in March 2020, all about how life would be so much better after lockdown. That the world needed a pause, time to think, time to shift.

And that good things would come from the darkness.

I never even imagined that might include me too. 

So here’s to all the good things that have come from this past year. And it’s easy to forget them, as we continue on the long and winding road of the restrictions we face in our everyday lives. 

Here’s to the banana bread bakers, the grow-your-own gurus, the homeschoolers, the walking weathermen, the artists and entrepreneurs, the Netflix binge watchers, and the new SUP and yoga warriors. How I wish I’d found that as my thing!

But I found writing. A past time that involves me sitting passively in front of a screen even more every day. But also a channel for self expression, an outlet, a project I never thought I could tackle, and more fulfilment that I ever dreamt possible. 

And it’s all for you, girls. One day, you’ll just know.