Where Do We Go From Here?

It’s kind of funny how hard it is to write when I’m not going through some kind of crisis. In some ways, I feel like happiness is boring; like now that I’ve grown closer to accepting the way things are, I’ve sacrificed some of the things that made me interesting. I worry that without the struggles that defined me when I started this blog, I have nothing worth saying.

I hope that’s not true. I don’t want it to be true. I think “interesting” is the greatest compliment I could ever get, and I couldn’t bear it if someone told me I was boring.

I’m worried that you guys, my readers, my crazy huge number of followers, are only here because of the hard stuff. Because there’s something about my journey through several levels of hell that struck you, or inspired you, or made you feel like you weren’t alone. Believe me, it has been unbelievable to be able to share my experiences with all of you. It has been a dream come true to be able to give some glimmer of hope to people who are struggling. This blog has been everything I ever could have hoped for and more.

The thing is, I’m doing well now. My life is pretty mundane. I’m a normal college student, taking a full courseload and working a part-time job. I spend my weekends marathoning TV shows and Netflix or spending time with my wonderful friends. I worry about normal college things, like graduating and getting good grades and finding a job. And being broke. And lamenting the fact that I’m still single. I’ve got a lot of worries, sure, but my health is no longer one of them.

As silly as it is, I wonder why any of you would care anymore. I’m nothing but average now, with nothing remarkable to show for my daily activities. It’s a blessing to be normal, to feel like I belong in the college culture, but as a blogger? Who wants to read about the life of a college math major? Besides the challenges I’ve worked to overcome, what makes me a worthwhile contributor to the WordPress world?

I am terrified that somehow, because I’m “normal,” my life has lost its meaning. That the things I’ve shared are the only things I’ll ever share. That I’ve reached my peak and nothing I do from this point on matters. All I’ll be is that blogger that used to be really insightful but now only talks about her job and her nights out on the town, losing followers left and right because she’s nothing special anymore. (Not that followers define me, but you know what I mean.)

I guess all I can say is that I’m still here. I’m still alive, which is something I never take for granted. I’m living outside of my URL, spending every day pushing toward the next phase of my life, hoping that something I do will matter someday. I still write 1000 words in my journal every day. I still think and wonder and love and cry and everything else humans do. I just don’t know how to say those things to all of you without losing my air of wisdom and courage. Without losing you.

Que sera, sera. What will be, will be. The only thing I can do is live the best way I know how, and I hope that I can take some of you with me along the way. Because God only knows what I’d do without you.

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13 comments

  1. Gwen, don’t worry….no amount of mundane normalcy can take away the depth of character and insight that you earned by struggling through several levels of hell. You have plenty left to say….and so much talent to say it with….your voice is still very worth hearing 😉 Wishing you much joy during this ‘normal,’ yet still incredibly meaningful, time in your life!

  2. I agree with what C.C. said above, and I just want to add that you have an amazing talent for writing, and I will probably enjoy reading whatever you write. And, honestly, as a student myself, I think I would also enjoy reading about your normal life!
    Don’t worry too much, Gwen. I think I speak for a lot of your followers when I say I’m just glad you’re doing so well right now! And if some readers only want to read about your misery, do you really want them as your followers?

  3. I hear ya, Gwen — I can’t tell you how many posts I’ve discarded because the thought, “Why is this interesting? Why should they care?” snuck into my head.
    But rest assured your words are *very* interesting, regardless of how mundane you perceive your life to be (and really, it’s not all that mundane). Misery binds people together, but shared hope and happiness keeps it going. 🙂

    1. That’s a great attitude. Misery was a great way to get myself out there. Hope and happiness will hopefully be what keeps this community going. I am so grateful to have you in my realm of the blogosphere!

  4. I followed because of your incredible writing, not because you were suffering. That being said, I’m glad to see that you’re doing well and living a normal life now. Maybe normal isn’t terribly exciting, but it’s more enjoyable.

  5. I came to your blog fairly recently and didn’t realize at first what you had been going through, health-wise. I just liked your writing style. So maybe you don’t have difficult things to write about at the moment — If you still feel the urge to write, what is it that interests you the most right now? Your shift in focus may change the demographic you are writing to, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Personally I think mundane stuff can be really interesting to read when the person writing about it cares about what they’re writing.

  6. Hello! I just discovered your blog and flipped through a few of your posts. You have a really beautiful writing style. Please know that it’s not your suffering that let people get attracted to you, that would be a rather sad thought. Normal life might not be eventful, but that doesn’t make it more or less exciting 🙂 All the best!

    P.S. Would you do me the honor of checking out my blog? Do tell me what you think!
    P.P.S. Thanks in advance!

  7. Sometimes it’s harder to be “normal” than being “unique” or “awkward” or any of a dozen other labels. Carry one label long enough, you define yourself through it – and when it falls off your forehead you’re worried people won’t recognize you anymore.

    Rest assured that won’t happen.

    You fought twice as hard as others to get to the “normal” life and somewhere you’ll always have the scars to show for it. You’ll never be “normal” as in “average” because your defining years were way beyond “normal”, and so is what you’ve managed to do.

    That’s why you’ll always be giving a credible hand to those still struggling, and they’ll always be thankful for your blog. You’ll always have much more to offer than your job, your cat or whatever because you’ll always see more, question more, know more about the hidden, painful, nasty stuff beneath the “normal” life. You said it yourself: “I’m still alive, which is something I never take for granted.”

    Secondly, working on yourself is addictive. Think of yourself as a garden. No gardener ever runs out of stuff to do – and since your trees of life keep growing you’ll never run out of things to shape, prune and happily harvest – and share. Never.

    Now that you’re free you’re just beginning to live! You can go now and find a meaning in life that is not defined by agony, just how awesome is that?! Don’t fear the mundane, enjoy the heck out of it! Go girl!

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