All, like all the writing?
In a word, absolutely.
I am currently in a very introspective phase of my life, and these sorts of questions are constantly going through my head. Where have I been? Where am I now? Where do I want to be?
I’m approaching 42 this summer. I can look back 20 years now and see who and where I was, what my life was, and…
Perspective is weird. I’ll just say that. I look at pictures of me 20 years ago and hardly that person. Yet I remember so much. I saw a photo of myself from 4-5 years ago and hardly recognized the A. F. in the picture. I’ve come a very long way.
It’s been hard. Much of my life was harder than I recognized at the time, which is something I’ve noticed about myself. I block and dissociate a lot in the effort to protect myself.
Recently, I’ve actively tried to stop doing that. There’s been mild success. But what I’ve had a lot of success at is inspecting my past and seeing it for what it really was. Some of that has come about through my writing, which I now have a good 30 years of. Though probably 10 years of the actual writings are nothing more than memory.
So I have say, 20 years of writings to look back on and triangulate my life with. 20 years of words I’ve made that put a time capsule around my world, my experience, my identity.
I cringe at vast amounts of it, looking back. But I’ve been reinspecting it, sharing it on my Patreon (and much of it exists elsewhere if you search hard enough, just saying) and…
I don’t regret any of it. My life.
Sure, there are things I regret doing. Choices I’ve made that are bad, choices I didn’t make that I should have, times I made no choice at all.
And somehow, I still wound up here, where I am now, the man I’ve grown to be and am still growing into.
I love him. Me.
That’s not something I’ve been able to say genuinely until these last few months. I know I keep thinking it, thinking about talking about it, but not sure if I’m talking about it as much as I think I am. If I’m prattling on about this a lot, I apologize. It’s been building in me for my whole life and finally revealed itself, and it’s like a new toy. A new car, a new favorite shirt.
It’s… become everything to me. I’ve found satisfaction in being myself.
I can only hope you feel the same way about yourself.
With age, experience, maturity, perspective, my writing has improved. But… that’s just the nature of life, right?
Why would I NOT want to do it all over again?
Despite that, I’m glad I don’t have to. I’m moving forward while honoring the past. Emotionally and in writing.
I wouldn’t be me right now if I hadn’t put down those cringe words as a teenager and 20-something.
Even then, I couldn’t imagine me now, the words I make now.
What are those things going to look like in another 20 years?
In a word, absolutely.
I am currently in a very introspective phase of my life, and these sorts of questions are constantly going through my head. Where have I been? Where am I now? Where do I want to be?
I’m approaching 42 this summer. I can look back 20 years now and see who and where I was, what my life was, and…
Perspective is weird. I’ll just say that. I look at pictures of me 20 years ago and hardly that person. Yet I remember so much. I saw a photo of myself from 4-5 years ago and hardly recognized the A. F. in the picture. I’ve come a very long way.
It’s been hard. Much of my life was harder than I recognized at the time, which is something I’ve noticed about myself. I block and dissociate a lot in the effort to protect myself.
Recently, I’ve actively tried to stop doing that. There’s been mild success. But what I’ve had a lot of success at is inspecting my past and seeing it for what it really was. Some of that has come about through my writing, which I now have a good 30 years of. Though probably 10 years of the actual writings are nothing more than memory.
So I have say, 20 years of writings to look back on and triangulate my life with. 20 years of words I’ve made that put a time capsule around my world, my experience, my identity.
I cringe at vast amounts of it, looking back. But I’ve been reinspecting it, sharing it on my Patreon (and much of it exists elsewhere if you search hard enough, just saying) and…
I don’t regret any of it. My life.
Sure, there are things I regret doing. Choices I’ve made that are bad, choices I didn’t make that I should have, times I made no choice at all.
And somehow, I still wound up here, where I am now, the man I’ve grown to be and am still growing into.
I love him. Me.
That’s not something I’ve been able to say genuinely until these last few months. I know I keep thinking it, thinking about talking about it, but not sure if I’m talking about it as much as I think I am. If I’m prattling on about this a lot, I apologize. It’s been building in me for my whole life and finally revealed itself, and it’s like a new toy. A new car, a new favorite shirt.
It’s… become everything to me. I’ve found satisfaction in being myself.
I can only hope you feel the same way about yourself.
With age, experience, maturity, perspective, my writing has improved. But… that’s just the nature of life, right?
Why would I NOT want to do it all over again?
Despite that, I’m glad I don’t have to. I’m moving forward while honoring the past. Emotionally and in writing.
I wouldn’t be me right now if I hadn’t put down those cringe words as a teenager and 20-something.
Even then, I couldn’t imagine me now, the words I make now.
What are those things going to look like in another 20 years?
RSS Feed