diary of a 20 something

Maybe writer’s block is the wrong word for it, but it’s definitely a block. It’s not your typical, when I open the page I can’t think of the words to say. It’s more that I have so many words swirling around in my head, but I don’t have the patience to get them out.

So today, instead of attempting to tackle half-finished stories awaiting my attention, I’m gonna talk to you about why so many of my stories are half-finished.

I’m surrounded by constant distraction. There’s always something to clean, a card to make or gift to order, friends I haven’t seen, dinner to cook, television episode to watch, chapter to read, or an extra hour of sleep to be had.

Not to mention the ever-attention-interrupting device, my iPhone. As someone who actively tries to be conscious of my technology usage, it still feels like too much. I love the social connection from the aptly named “social media”, but with every post, DM, or vertical video, I feel a pit in my stomach.

There’s a lot I could say about social media and technology, but I’ll stick to what’s relevant.

We live in a time where we have more access to each other than we’ve ever had. I’m so guilty of this– giving people access to my life that I’m not sure they should have. Before social media, people didn’t know what old classmates or acquaintances ended up doing with their lives, they fell out of touch. They focused on making something with the world they knew or discovered the world they didn’t. But they didn’t have constant comparison, and they sure as hell didn’t have the pretentious posts of Linkedin.

And what does all of this do? There’s one thing I haven’t told you. Probably the most poisonous, and very much influenced by the above. I can’t write because I feel like an imposter.

Why?

I can’t say I’m a “writer” just because I tell stories on my blog. I haven’t published anything since college (and does that count since they were literally college publications?)

There is a mismatch in who I am and who I want to be, driving my imposter syndrome. I don’t think the world sees me as a creative, as a writer, since I’ve spent the last four years managing projects at a tech start-up.

So I get ahead of myself, wondering if any of the steps I’ve plotted will even matter. If I’ll keep trying just to fail, and how embarrassing it will be. But I feel even more embarrassed to be stuck. To be in a conversation with a glass of non-alcoholic rosé schlepping out platitudes about how at least I have financial freedom and I’m traveling the world, even if I’m unhappy professionally. Even if this isn’t what I thought it would be like at 26.

I feel like I’m an imposter because I don’t have a refined vocabulary even after the hundreds of books I’ve read and numerous English classes I’ve taken. I browse submission criteria for online literary magazines and leave their websites feeling out of touch, not Gen-Z enough, or devoid of a single original thought (though I should point out that three different mags I looked at were all releasing issues on the topic of nostalgia).

I keep a folder in my email titled “rejected” where I collect all the emails of Unfortunatelys, We regret to inform yous, Thank you for your application as a growing reminder that the world doesn’t see me as a writer yet either. Glaring trophies on my shelf of disappointment.

And if you made it this far, I want to tell you, I’m not trying to complain. I’m trying to tell you my fears and failings so I can keep going. So I can be a writer anyway. And that maybe you too will understand. Maybe we can encourage each other to not give up, to get unstuck, and to know how to move past the failure or the fear of it.

When I focus too much on what I’m not, I forget all the things that I am. This is hard to avoid in my continuous quarter-life-crisis spiral. When I told Jake this, he wrote:

You’re you! 

You’re goofy 

You’re writer 

You’re chef 

You’re reader 

You’re traveler 

You’re hiker

You’re dancer

You’re chiller 

You’re adventurer 

You’re beautiful 

You’re smart 

You’re wonderful 

So maybe today, if you’re feeling like an imposter like I am most of the time, make a list of the things you love that you know make you, you. To make those words louder than our lack.

Because we are enough, and we are doing better than we think… if we’d just let the world quiet so we can let our own words in.