Why I stopped writing and why university isn’t for me

There’s one thing to be said about falling out of love with things/people/activities. Sometimes it’s for the better. Falling out of love with someone who wasn’t right for you or no longer desiring to smoke are positives. But what happens when you fall out of love with your favourite thing? Not so great.

Growing up writing was my form of escapism. Whether that was writing as a form of healing or creative writing; fantasying about a life I wanted to live; writing was how I aired my feelings to the universe – even if it just stayed in my notes.

So, why have I not written a post in 10 months?

When it came to choosing which course I’d study at university, the choices were journalism, English or marketing. A decision I would revise if I could. But here we are almost three years later, with ‘I don’t even want to think about how much’ debt and a few extra pounds from stress.

My selection went a little like this: turn up to two out of the three taster days and see how long you can last in the session. For the marketing course, I endured the full day but thought of all the other things I could be doing with my time.

And for the English course, I lasted up till the first break before making a run for it. Let’s say I lasted half an hour in the room, but mentally shut down after the second powerpoint slide.

So, of course, I went with journalism.

 

I probably fell more in love with my university more than I did my course. The facilities, opportunities, and promises looked like a five-course meal after three days without food. To put in simple terms, it sounded like the best possible three years of my life.

So I enrolled.

But, who knew seven months later I wouldn’t be so in love? There’s a major difference between writing about things that you love at a rate that you love, to writing about things you couldn’t give a damn about at a speed that makes you want to pull your eyeballs out, cut off all your fingers and jump off a cliff. Graphic, dramatic, but accurate.

I had gone from having all these words and things to talk about, to nothing. Speechless. And any ounce of creativity to pull something out of the air went into faking it till I make it assignments.

My desire to be a fashion journalist was gone. My belief that I could actually put two sentences together was gone, and I became an overly self-critical, pessimistic, bag of stress and mess.

(Pray for me, next month I start third year. I need all the prayers and good energy I can get!)

I recently had a conversation about my fizzled relationship and a friend said: “maybe think of a different angle to approach it.”

Translating to me as: don’t see it as a task or assignment, write freely, forget trying to perfect it or spending hours on your intro. Let the words flow.

For months I forced myself to sit behind my laptop and try and write. I rebranded the blog and introduced new writers in an attempt to inspire me. It didn’t – not like how it should of.

This isn’t an assignment or something that’s being marked. This should be fun, and I should enjoy spilling my thoughts.

It took me ten months to rekindle this love. So, in case you need to rekindle your love for something too, whether that’s writing, the gym or something else, here are a few tips:

  1. Stop focusing on it and forcing yourself to write/*insert activity*.
  2. It doesn’t have to be perfect. Almost nothing in life is. Just have fun with it.
  3. ┬áTake your time. Apparently, it makes the heart grow fonder. I’m not sure if it works the same with writing, but hey ho.

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