Why?

Why am I blogging? I haven’t written much yet. I’m definitely not a writer. I struggle, to be honest. I’m dyslexic. It feels very strange and rather threatening to write in public, even more so to write about my work and myself. But I want to think out loud, I want to document my journey, I want to reflect and dissect, and I want room to breathe. I want to be myself for the first time in 31 years.

I always thought I’d be sorted by the time I got to 30, I now realise that many people go their whole lives without getting sorted. In that regard I feel lucky to have been brave / stupid enough to have taken a change in direction, even if it does feel like I’m about to leap off a cliff into the abyss some days.

In reality, it’s actually not a radical change. It’s always been there: that burning desire to make. It’s either in you or it’s not. It just depends what gets in the way.

For me, 2012 has been a bad year. But I think life has to jump up and slap you in the face sometimes before you realise, ‘ah yes, something needs to change’. So I’m picking myself up and putting my life back together again, hopefully in the way I want it this time.

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