I should name these blog posts episodes so that the routine month-long breaks seem purposeful, like season finales, not half-hazard. Alas, it’s a new year and about a week until I turn 30. So, I am taking this time to recommit myself to this blog and my writing practice.
Considering 2024 consisted of my stepdad battling cancer again, moving, and everything else that happened in the world, I have done what I could to keep writing consistently. Life will probably not get any easier this year. But, with a new year and now six months into being on my own again. I’m starting to feel grounded enough to move forward with writing. What I am hoping for more than anything this year is space and silence.
I spoke a few posts ago about chaos and uncertainty being opportunities for growth. What I want for 2025 are the right tools to channel chaos around me. I don’t want to feel stuck in another routine. The routines kept me stagnant within the same cycles. I want to do more and think less. When everything gets quiet around me, I start getting restly and antsy and start doing more.
I have been saying for a while that I want to work on a project about female friendships and in particular Black female friendships. I have also wanted to publish articles more regularly. An idea for a series where I get people together to talk about art culture and books called cakes and conversations has also been floating around my head.
Some part of me feels like I’m jinxing myself saying what I want for myself out loud. And yet, it’s only when I say what I want out loud that I’m able to find the tools to get myself there. This is my cycle. I told my mom I was ready to move out of the apartment in the early spring and I was out before summer. I have said I wanted to be recognized for writing more and was shortlisted for a major fellowship.
I live in an apartment complex that faces the East River. The wind tunnel that comes off the river drowns out the sirens and city life. Nothing stands between me and my next steps anymore. Yet, for two months after I moved I ran back home too cause the silence intimidated me. I got what I wanted and said I would manifest for 2024 and when the time came I was ready to jump ship and give up
If my twenties taught me anything, I am afraid of saying and getting what I want. I tell myself lies to justify my fear. Having to prove my worth is too much pressure. Maybe this year just isn’t the year. There’s too much going on and it’s not the right time. The voice in my head telling me, I may not be cut out for the life I want, has grown to a deafening roar.
So 2025 will be the year I jump first and figure it out later. I’ll open the document and figure out what I want to say once I’m already typing. That is pretty much how writing this post just went.
Let's go 2025!!!
Related to so much of this! Here’s to believing in ourselves + positively manifesting in 2025 🥂