Unwritten

Unwritten

Oh hey, I still run a blog! That’s neat. Maybe I better stop ignoring it… 🤷‍♀️.

Welp, it’s been too long and I’m sorry about that. The end of 2019 and start of 2020 found me in a very deep and contemplative place. While I was working through all of that, I was fortunate enough to be able to travel to Cabo and spend some well needed time soaking up the sun and putting my phone to the side, mostly. There was something so great about being able to disconnect, even for a little bit.

During my holiday hiatus I realized what a halt my writer’s block has put me at. From my book, all the way to figuring out what to post on Instagram, it’s just been this terrible creative rut. What’s a girl to do?

Sometimes while I’m trying to fall asleep the ideas will find their way into my semi conscious mind and then gets forgotten by the morning. The feeling is defeating, and I get upset with myself, even though I know it’s not something I can help. One of my passions in life is being creative, and feeling like I’m bringing something to the world; and when I can’t do that I feel trapped.

To be trapped within your own mind is the weirdest feeling. It’s as if one part of your brain is waiting for it’s meeting with another part of your brain. The two click for a mere moment and then they part. If you don’t catch it at the exact moment of the “click” it’s gone. Some call it brain fog, some may call it writers block, I call it the number one source of my frustration and tears.

I want to blame social media. The culture it’s created, how it makes us think/feel/act, and yet at the same time… I have no one to blame but myself. I fell down this rabbit hole and made a conscious decision to do so. I don’t regret allowing myself to be open and sharing my life for a second, but I do regret the person it can make me be at times.

I hate the feeling of needing to keep up with everyone else, and that I’m a failure if I don’t. I hate the little green monster of envy that comes out when someone else becomes “more famous”. It’s laughable, I know. Why should I envy the fact that someone has 10k plus followers? Why should I envy the fact that companies want to collab with fashion blogger X? Or that this person got a shoutout, or that person got free stuff? It’s all so trivial and so… materialistic.

Wow; yes, I read what I said, and it feels shallow. In the deepest part of my soul, the numbers and things don’t matter to me. They really really don’t. While it all feels validating, it’s not my aim or my goal. My whole desire is to share my story and my words. I want to be known because I brought something positive to this world, not because I want to receive anything. My biggest joy in the world of social media is when someone reaches out to me and tells me I’ve inspired them, or they seek my advice or opinion on something. I don’t have pictures that are worth a thousand words, but I have words that can paint a thousand pictures.

I started writing this post with a different mindset and intention than where this blog post is going… I stirred over it for a while, and was going to make it a bit of a kvetch over social media. But, I decided I wanted to tackle something on a deeper level.

We all want to be seen. We all want to be known. We all want to leave our mark in some way. I’ve come to the conclusion that my aspiration to have a bigger “following” boils down to the important need that every person has: The need to be remembered.

Being told at 22 that I may not make it to see my 30th birthday, or even earlier birthdays than that scared me to no end. I was 22! I had hardly made a dent in this world. How would people in the future even know I ever existed? I had (and some days still have) this emotional breakdown; I needed to get married quickly, and have [adopt] kids. I needed to have a legacy of some sort that could carry my memory on.

While I realize there are a plethora of ways to be remembered, for me there was always such a surefire path of how I’d wanted to do that. It shattered in a second, and it was never going to be. I felt defeated and crushed, and I still fall into that dark abyss from time to time.

What is this internal need to have a legacy to carry on?

My fear, my greatest fear, is leaving nothing behind and being forgotten. Isn’t it said that you’re only as good as how you’re remembered… or something like that?

I don’t really know.

I’m terrified.

There are days I lay in my room and look around; I study every detail and every item. I lay there and wonder who will get what. Who will receive my sefarim, my clothes, my wigs, my purses, my jewelry? Will they appreciate my stuff as much as I have?? My head spins, and I pray.

Writing is my outlet, my vice, and it has been a beautiful way to share my story. It continues to be my anchor on the days I could just drift away. I have established that there is so little within my control, but what is in my control is my writing and the ability to share what I create. I need to focus more on that being my legacy, and less on things that aren’t within my power. It’s a humbling realization to get to.

So, that brings me back to one of my initial points… How does one expand their “network” or their reach? How are we able to make sure we have a legacy that actually lives on? Do you have to beg for likes and share? Do you have to pander for more followers? Do you have to literally hand out your book to people walking by and say, “READ THIS!… Please.” It’s a never ending spiral of thoughts. It’s a question that may not get answered, and I have to be okay with that.

In the meantime, I’ll continue to write and build up my book and my blog. I’ll maintain my authenticity, even if it can be to a fault at times, and I won’t apologize for saying what I feel or what consumes my mind, nor will I apologize for taking up space and wanting to share my legacy. We were given this one life, so let’s make something good out if, shall we?

What’s your legacy going to be?

XOXO

F&F

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