The End of a Struggle

My parents always allowed me to switch from hobby to hobby. If it was hard, I was allowed to give up and chose a new thing. Every exciting discovery turned into a firework passion. By the next day, it was always gone.

They never encouraged me or pushed me. They never taught me “difficult”. I’ve been raised in easiness. Imagine being stuck at a beginner level for everything you start.

That sucks.

Until recently, I considered myself to be a frustrated-switcher-beginner-not fighter expert.

* * *

Someone once told me I should write.

« Really? You? Writing? Please. » Meet my ego.

I loved journaling. I had written a few meaningless notes. I loved writing application letters — weird, I know — and people loved them.

During my last job interview, the recruiter asked me if I’d be willing to write content for the company blog because he had loved my letter. Writing an article was part of my hiring process. I chose Medium to write that article. They loved it. They published it. They hired me.

My ego understood what was coming and made a panic attack: « you’ve never written before, English isn’t your first language, you don’t even know if you’re good at it! »

I decided to publish my first English article. Since that day, I’ve been publishing a few stories. One of my first articles has reached 1K claps last week. My 500th follower showed up earlier this week. Until 2 weeks ago, I never thought about being a writer; my imposter syndrome was forbidding me to accept that I have potential.

I was almost ashamed to call myself a writer.

* * *

Something unexpected happened two weeks ago.

For the first time in my life, I realized that I was doing something consistently without forcing myself to start. Every time I start, I drain my laptop battery and keep writing for hours. I forget to eat, time flies when I write, I have ideas flowing and post-its everywhere in my flat.

I easily wake up at 6 am and go to bed at 10 pm and I don’t do it because it’s written in self-help books. I do it because I need my mind to be rested when I’ll write the next day.

For the first time in my life, I think about something day in and day out, something I love doing finally makes sense. I want to be great at something and I’m excited to put in hard work every day to get to it.

I know what I want and I feel confident about it: I want to quit my full-time job by the end of next year to focus on my writing.

I want to be a writer.

* * *

Since my youngest age, I’ve always wondered what my passion could be. I’ve been frustrated because I didn’t consider myself to be good at anything.

Writing is different.

Is writing my passion? I don’t know. Do I like writing? YES! Do I feel accomplished when I hit “Publish?” YES.

It’s not about money, getting a new job, or being famous. I know that I want to improve and spend time doing it because it makes me feel good. I genuinely love doing it.

And today, I feel like I could be doing this for the rest of my life.

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Previously published on “Change Becomes You”, a Medium publication.

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