Here I am, at the age of 30, starting a blog. I’ve always loved writing. I’ve done it for the last 14 years. Always handwritten though. But you get to a point where you wonder what the purpose of all of this writing is. You contemplate whether publishing online will even be worth it because after all, this writing of yours is raw, real and, are your innermost thoughts and feelings, unveiled for the world to see.
There are so many other blogs. Why on earth would anyone ever be interested in anything I have to say? What is so important that people would want to read my writing? Could I even gain an audience? But here’s the thing. After getting through 30 years of life, I have learned that there are so many people who can relate to me in so many different ways because they have had similar experiences or thoughts. I have learned that talking about the things we so often go through but fail to sometimes talk about, means that other people may feel misunderstood too. I learned that my reflections could help people in so many different ways. I learned that the purpose to me starting my writing at such a young age was always meaningful because I was always wiser beyond my years, with a lot to say.
The thing is, If you saw me on a regular day, you would think I am unapproachable and would never imagine that someone like me has ever been through all of these things. But I’m not unapproachable. I’m always just lost in my own little world analysing everything around me, trying to understand it all. The truth is, you might never know me but I have a feeling that you’ll know me pretty well through my writing. I’m not saying that I have been through the worst of things. In fact, I write from a place of peace and contentment with some tangled reflections, still on this journey of life trying to figure this out.
I appreciate who I am today and I am eternally grateful for all that I have been through. The only thing that has ever truly helped me has been my writing. When the people around me misunderstood me, I needed an outlet, and that very first Tinkerbell journal at the age of 16 helped me. In this big bad world, growing up without guidance (not intentionally) meant I had to figure this thing called life out myself. And I am still trying to figure it out, The funny thing is, even though I didn’t know at the time, Tinkerbell is me (not because I think of myself as a fairy) but because I am sassy, feisty, stubborn and hot-tempered. Albeit, not as hot-tempered as I used to be once upon a time, and so, the writing began.
Here I am 14 years later, ready to share myself in a way that very few have ever seen or known. Completely raw, unedited and real. No lessons on how to write, not a professional. Just an ordinary woman in an extraordinary world writing through her experiences and reflections, whilst maintaining my day job.
There is no order here. This is my life in reflections as they happen with snippets to the past. After all, the past is important because of who I am in the present. It is all important for you to continue on this journey of self-discovery with me. It’s all a tangled mess, you know, like the cables behind your TV. Oh, and with some foul language at times. Let’s be honest, you can’t be more real than that that when expressing yourself! But in all seriousness, I hope you are able to relate to something here, through my writing, wherever you are in the world. And always remember, choose kindness. We’re all on a journey here and no one has their stuff figured out.
The Unveiled Reflector x