The Sunday Archives, Vol. 2, No.2
A most delightful Sunday to you, my dearest reader.
And indeed, what an eventful week it has been!
Today marks the moment of an announcement – an announcement of utmost importance, for there shall be significant change sweeping across the entire realm.
For this particular occasion, I shall refrain from the dramatic drawing of curtains or any theatrical accessories, and even the aggressive blinding by a flashlight to the face will not take part today.
Instead, I shall simply ask for one simple thing, and one thing only: Fetch me a pond, a lake, or even a measly bucket full of water! Whatever is readily at hand within your own realm will be graciously accepted.
The reason, you ask?
I am taking the leap!
The exquisite art of the pen, where brilliant thoughts unite with ink on paper, giving form to one’s magnificent inner world, has always been a passion of mine – if not the passion.
I have always been a writer of stories, both short and long, and, occasionally, even poems. In November of the last year, I did, in fact, even publish a collection of said poems.
Writing has always served me as the best, most reliable way to express my complex inner self – although, as I must confess, sometimes even in the most foolish ways, writing painfully long messages to men, actually believing, bless my heart, they would truly ‚understand‘.
How gloriously silly of me!
For those of you who have followed my journey over this past year, it is no secret that this has been an intensily difficult time for me, and still continues to be so.
Loneliness, profound feelings of unworthiness, constant doubt and dismissal, job rejections, and the haunting fear of never being good enough have not only been fleeting visitors, but my sole companions despite the furry Head of State.
Those are the kind of wretched guests never being invited to any kind of festivities, and I assure you, should they find the door, they will be permanently forbidden to ever enter the threshold of my realm again!
Once I had picked up my pen again, after a long period of standstill, the flame was ignited instantly. My beloved vessel of creation and release had finally reopened its doors to me, and I welcomed it with gratitude.
However, at this point I began splitting my energy between writing, never ceasing applications, managing daily life, caring for my tiny tiger, who has ruthlessly claimed for herself the title of Head of State, and balancing my own neurodivergence. The cost was high, and I began to feel the sharp signs of a burnout surfacing.
If you are neurodivergent yourself, or possess sufficient understanding of the matter, you will be aware of the fact that our energy is much more limited than those of a neurotypical person, and to ignore this crucial fact comes with severe cost.
Foolishly, I have engaged in this very act for months, ignoring my own limits, and have repeatedly paid the price that comes with it – dopamine depletion, the inability to restore a healthy baseline, and physical exhaustion.
The moment Christmas waved its final, excruciating goodbye, the Empress finally rose.
Months spent in crushing loneliness, not one single, genuine conversation nor honest connection, months spent in paralyzing pain – these very hardships, these forces were the ones that had shaped me. I emerged stronger, fiercely more resilient, and, most importantly, I found my true self.
After a holiday of devastating solitude, my voice, my mindset, my passions and goals were all revealed to me. The Empress was born.
Despite the transformation, I still found myself foolishly splintering my energy. It mattered little which crown I wore – whether the sad crown of the victim, or the shiny, magnificent crown of the Empress I have become.
At the start of this week, yet another rejection arrived, and I was standing on the verge of another breakdown. Fueled by anger and disappointment, I realized that action was require, and that a decision needed to be made.
That evening, I took a reflective walk around the stately realm to seek clarity, knowing that I could not go on like this.
I needed to choose a path, and in the depths of my soul, my instincts already told me what needed to be done. My mind, now ringing with an equal measure of paralyzing fear and electrical excitement, announced that the time had come – time, to take the leap, to dedicate myself entirely to my passion, and to officially become a Freelance Writer.
Pray, do not think me foolish, my dear reader.
I fully realize that this is not going to be an easy path to walk. Indeed, the road ahead may be dimly lit and painfully rocky, but it also is a path worth following.
I have never felt a passion for anything as intensely as I do for writing! Literature, the sanctity of books, the art of the pen and my inner world – that is where my true purpose lies.
And, although I feel a sharp contrast of emotions between fear and excitement, and this leap takes immense bravery, I also cannot wait for the opportunities that may arise along with it.
A note for the record:
The Head of State was already inquring if she must immediately establish a donation page to ensure the continued supply of her weekly tuna loins, or if she ought to begin mapping out ‚lovely places for sleeping outdoors in the realm of nature‘.
Until next time,
the realm must be ruled.