The past few days have been weird. Not in a good way, but finally this evening I’m feeling at peace with everything. There was a lot of stress and tension in our family last night, and I got caught in the crossfire, which resulted in a lot of hurt feelings (mine) and resentment (again, mine). Finally, today, I had to realise that only I can be determined enough to achieve my dreams, and I have to believe in myself enough. Even though acceptance from others matters to me (especially family), I’m setting myself up for a lot of heartache if I expect everyone to understand that writing is in my blood, a part of who I am – not just something I do.
The past year I’ve spent a lot of time worrying about what other people think of me – extended family, aquaintances and so on. We’ve all had that question – what are you doing? I always stumble with this question – I’m volunteering, I’m writing, I’m doing a creative writing course, etc. I always feel I have to justify myself. I’m conflicted between wanting to do well and be successful in other people’s eyes with being true to myself and following my own path. If I did what everyone expects of me, and gave up writing to work in a high powered city job, I would be unhappy. It doesn’t matter how much money it would pay – I don’t think that would make me feel any better.
The temptation to just give in means that sometimes I’ve been close to just giving up. It would be the easy thing to do. Thats why its a bad idea – you just know that if something is easy, then it can’t be right. The things that matter are hard work. Its determination that keeps me on, that keeps me writing this blog and my fatshion blog, that makes me scribble in my notebook. It would be easy to give up, because writing is hard. Some days I don’t have the motivation but I’m learning when to give myself a break – sometimes taking a break is good for you. I live in my imagination and my imagination feeds on the real world and culture. People keep telling me that its time to ‘live in the real world’ and ‘get a proper job’.
You know you’re a writer when you find yourself rebelling, when you insist you’re already living in the real world; its what you write about, even if it is fiction. The word ‘real’ suggests that what we are living right now is not real – that somewhere outside our houses or flats, there exists some sort of reality that we’re not a part of. And what is so great about ‘the real world’ anyway? When someone talks tough to you about needing to join the real world, they’re saying that they don’t think you know what its like. It invalidates imagination and creativity, suggesting that its not real and that its childish. I’ve always thought that imagination was something that created civilizations, inspired people and changed the world.