Each time I get into a self-meditative mode, I start reading past journals/entries/posts which only I’m privy to.
And I surprise myself every single time.
Just 2 years back, I seemed like a confident soul. My skin was glowing despite the exhaustion of going through pregnancy planning and making trips to & fro to see the first gynae I’ve ever seen in my life. Nothing seemed to be able to conquer me. Not even the blank faces on a pee stick. Not even disappointing fertility related news over the phone.
Maybe the combination of working & continually enriching myself with books of all sorts (the theme then was: God’s plan for pregnancy and everything else revolving that topic) were the magic dust. I enjoyed reading about my past thoughts. I relished the zest I placed in everything. Even in the negative that I wrote about. There was hope in the depressing news I received. And in hope I felt so alive.
Each word was honest. Genuine. Informative. Uninhibited. Something I ironically can’t seem to replicate on this blog despite wanting to countless of times.
Probably because anonymity didn’t warrant the need for a facade. The lack of photos meant that every word had to be thoroughly thought through & accurately used. No disclaimers nor explanations were needed. Who cared if anyone judged. You didn’t have to edit photos to reflect partial truths. Everything you wanted to write about, could be as is. No battles were waged from quivering hearts.
If you’re wondering where this sudden loom is coming from, it’s from some news I received today. Not the end-of-the-world worrying sort, but something that shook me up for a bit because yet again I took my health for granted. And during such precarious moments, I usually over-medidate and seek solace in myself (through past posts).
I need to start having faith in myself.