The Blessing of Not Having a Following, and Leaning Into What’s Real
It would be an understatement to say that nobody is going to read this. I’m figuring out how to be okay with that. Instead of writing for what will attract attention, what will make the most waves, or what sells, I’ve decided to spend a little time as often as I can just… writing. I mean, if I want to go into speaking, I need to practice my words. Think of this as my journal, but probably less repetitive and sad. I hope. In this space, I can just talk about what’s going on with me, as if you’re a friend I haven’t seen in a while getting updates on my day-to-day. At least for now, although I can’t wait to see what it blossoms into.
This year is going to be the year I find my voice, and this is the best way I can think to work toward that goal.
I started reading again this year. I was one of those kids who always participated in the library’s rewarded reading programs, or was the first to finish my page log in elementary school. But somewhere around 2017, I fell into a pattern of only reading self help or self improvement books. “If I’m going to carve out time for reading, it should be helping me be better. I must be better.” Granted, I was a mess, and those books helped me hugely. Could I tell you now whether or not I still use anything I read? Probably not. I’m not sure if it became so deeply engrained that I don’t notice anymore, or if it all got lost somewhere along the way. Point being, though, eventually reading felt like homework more than anything. It sapped all the fun out of the hobby, and I didn’t want to do it anymore. A vicious cycle of, “If I’m reading, it needs to make me better” leading to, “If I have to feel like I’m doing work, I just won’t do it.”
At the beginning of this year, I found a book in a little free library: The Cabinet of Curiosities by Preston & Child. I’m not really sure what made me pick it up. My mom was always reading murder mysteries and biographies of serial killers when I was growing up, I suppose in some way I was drawn to it for that. I finished that book in about three days, and remembered what it was like to get lost in a different world for a little while. Not for escapism, but just for fun. I’ve read almost 20 books this year, as of end of August.
I do think that it’s important to grow yourself. It’s one of what I consider my five main values. But squashing yourself into doing things you aren’t enjoying while not leaving yourself room for what you do is going to get you nowhere. I learned about myself this year that I love horror books, and it feels like a corner piece of the puzzle that is Rowan. I’m celebrating that as someone who, even a few years ago, couldn’t have told you a single real thing about me if my life depended on it. Relaxing into a piece of authenticity with myself is like slipping into a warm bath.
This is the year I learn what my voice sounds like. I thought, and still sometimes do think, of myself as someone afraid of being seen. Posting on social media feels like one of my circles of hell. If I thought anyone would read this, I’d be reexamining, editing, caring to the point of completely stopping myself. But I realized just a few days ago that, if I were afraid of being seen, I probably wouldn’t have hot pink hair. I probably wouldn’t have a dream of motivational speaking. I’m so afraid, though, of getting it wrong. Of saying something I don’t mean, or realizing in a month or two that I disagree with my (recent) past self, or of not covering every possible base that someone might see and sink their teeth into. The internet is terrifying, and so many people are so angry. But then I go to the grocery store and watch 10 year old girls’ mouths drop open when I walk by, and hear them ask their moms if they can say hi to me. I have someone holler that they love my hair as they bike past, or I drive by and happen to have my windows down. I do enjoy being seen. I just want to be seen for what I really am, not a character or projection or idea. So that’s why I’m here, and what I’m trying to figure out. What Rowan really wants to share, what Rowan really sounds like.
This is the year I find my voice, and I’ll look back and be so grateful to myself for being brave.
