I’m a writer. Or at least I used to be. Around this time last year I resigned from my position as a 24/7, 365 digital marketer/community manager/ghost writer/etc and since then have felt a little lost. Relieved, yes, but still lost. Because I didn’t just quit, I ended five plus years of writing as someone else. About someone else. Pretending to be someone else. Vicariously living a life that couldn’t have been more different from my own – what life was that exactly? Ain’t nobody got time for that when their brain is constantly consumed by another person’s family/business and their eyes are always looking at
three a screen.
This isn’t to complain. I excelled at my job and hit many milestones and accomplishments that I am proud of. But at what cost? … and that’s not the point of this post.
The point is that I used to write, all day every day and I don’t anymore. I’m not sure I remember how to write as Jackie because in the process of adopting a slew of different “voices” I inevitably lost confidence in my own.
My parents passed down their creativity gene to all their kids (even though they might be surprised to be described as such) and writing was a great outlet for that. Once my job ended, I tried to escape writing all together and exercise that creativity in a lot of other different areas like cooking, fashion, decorating, blogging, photography and DIY projects. While I truly love those things, words have a piece of my heart that will never be replaced.
My scriptures, a note from my husband, my favorite song lyrics, a news article that informs me, the prettiest stationery, a blog post that deeply resonates and makes me cry, my family’s constant stream of group texts, a book I’ve read a dozen times, a card from my girlfriends.
I’m a writer. That was taking a break. And that’s okay. Now I know that I don’t need to get a paycheck to say that I’m a writer. Now I know that I don’t want to write words simply to sell people things and I don’t want to write words that bring little or no value to someone’s life. But writing brings value to my life so it’s time I figure out what kind of writer I want to be.
After searching and searching for the right “role” and – lets face it – failing at it, I have finally come to realize why. It’s because I have been putting my faith in all the wrong people and places. I first must believe in my identity as His daughter. I am a child of God and He has a purpose for me. We fiercely hold on to things longer than we should because we fear that something great can’t happen twice, that something better might not come along after all. That’s just not the case. As the quote so eloquently goes, “The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away.”
Our talents are God’s gift to us and what we do with them is our gift back to Him.
Give Him your first and your best and the rest will fall into place.