Three Years Ago

Hello Old Blog,

Has it been three years ago that I last wrote? You are just as I left you – dreamy, hopeful, and excited about new starts.

Back then, I had thought I could blog on the side and maybe earn a little extra with it. But long days at work and nights spent having ‘me time’ took over. I had thought writing was a passion that could perhaps earn something, but I realised part of it would be to ‘sell’ my vulnerability – something I learned I was not willing to do. My vulnerability was something I wanted to share, not market.

Three years is not a long time. It’s not a short time either. I bought a house, got married, got promoted, had a kid and did the average Singaporean life. Or so it seemed. The glitter in all of the mundane, was that the person I married made every evening with him something I looked forward to, the house we bought had seen fellowship and conversations with dear friends, and the kid I have is what we have been praying for (though it can be tough at many times). Life in the past three years is very much like a lightly glittered plain dress. Not too much. Not too little. Just right to make that girl of your dreams look like a queen when she walked down the aisle in it.

Somewhere in the middle of all, I had thought of coming back to you – of writing, of capturing the moments and not losing myself in the whirl and drone of everything. But being vulnerable to everyone and no one out there, to critics and those who cared (both too much and too little) made me hesitate.

Three years is not a long time. I learned to hide my weaknesses so that others won’t see it and to play up my strengths so that I would get noticed. I learned to care less about what others said about me, and maybe in the midst of it care less about people. I was so tired of the humdrum that I learned to chant the mantra ‘one day at a time’, and in the process, forgot how to dream.

So here I am, cradling my three-week old son in my arms, and saying hello to you again. Here I am, looking for a little of who I lost – that creative and curious individual unafraid to put herself out there through her writing – and at the same time looking for who I would be. Your blank pages give me muse to start over again and again, without a care for who I was yesterday. Your blank pages help me to grow and blossom, but not forget where my roots are. Your blank pages challenge me to create out of nothing.

Three years is a long time. I’ve grown and changed (a married woman is never the same as before). And so I deleted that page where I tried to do a little on the side and left a contact (which was never used), because I’m back to write for writing’s sake. I’ve decided to be vulnerable and authentic, because there is beauty in the ashes for those who write and those who read (nevermind if it is no one at all).

I’ll try not to wait out another blur of three years but to carry each challenge and triumph through your pages, so that I can remember the lessons learnt, the lessons I will teach my children and for who I am.