I cannot believe it has been over one year since I so candidly sat down with a glass of wine and my laptop to leave one of my favorite types of digital footprints, a blog post. Call me old school, but I was one of the original bloggers, you know, the kind who secretly despised traditional journalism and citizen journalists so much that they unknowingly became one. I always had something to say.
I have never gone this long without expressing myself in this way. I used to make my writing sessions a weekly habit in which I would cultivate the perfect creative environment, block out distractions (minus the occasional Instagram Story post), and immerse myself in the experience of turning thoughts into words and placing them on a page. When I wrote, I felt intelligent, unique, and interesting. Writing gave me a sense of resolve, as if I could simply write my problems away. We all have a story, and I really enjoyed sharing mine. Then, I just… stopped. But why?
The last post I published, “Black Femininity… Let’s Talk About It” felt like my breaking point. I reread the post over and over, hesitated to publish it, and wondered if it even mattered anymore. We were in the thick of the COVID-19 pandemic, and each day, I grew more tired. Tired was actually an understatement. I was exhausted and burned out beyond measure. I know many of us were. Life was too heavy. The initial surges in infections forced the world to adapt, and those of us who were blessed to keep our jobs had to balance gratitude with a new normal. For me, that was not easy. I found myself working harder than I ever had. The constant negativity in the news cycle did not make it easier. Even worse, my job required me to write, oftentimes, about COVID-19. I was drained.
Sometimes, being required to do something that you love for compensation or another cause can deplete you, killing the intrinsic motivation that you once had. However, during my creative death, I tried to support, uplift, and live through other creators, both in my personal and professional life. When people reached out to me for advice or guidance, it gave me hope and a sense of purpose. You’d be surprised at how many people reach out to me about how to move to L.A., what it’s like as a Black woman in my career field, what to post on social media, or simply how to start a blog.
My transition from freelance writing to a career as a social media director has taught me that you can be both, just not always at the same time. A part of me has felt missing for too long. When I’m not writing, I’m concealing parts of myself, leaving fragmented thoughts to simmer in my mind, creating a slow burn. Now, it is time for me to step back into myself, to heal through the introspective craft that has served me long before I started therapy (which is also amazing and necessary).
If this past year has taught me anything, it’s that regardless of the storms life brings, it’s up to each of us to find the rainbows that follow, and to relish in them.
Today marks my sixth year anniversary in Los Angeles, and a creative rebirth. I’ve made a promise to myself to continue sharing my story and helping others do the same.