Why Currently?

What does it all mean

I have kept a weekly planner for the past ten years. Every week, I add a section to the blank space at the bottom of the page that I call “Currently.” “Currently” is a list of everything I’m currently reading, playing, watching, and listening to. I recently added one category back into this list: writing.

I had previously removed this category because I had sworn it off, given it up. Ever since I got my Master’s in English, writing and I have had a fraught relationship. No, torturous. Despite the ever present urge to write, for years, I have not been able to bring myself to do it. And this has been quite upsetting because it used to feel like breathing.

At a certain point, I had to ask myself if it was really worth it to keep tormenting myself about it. I clearly wasn’t meant to write, or else I would do it, right? So I turned my attention to absolutely everything else—mainly playing the same video games over and over and doom scrolling. You know, constructive things. I stopped calling myself a writer. I told myself I stopped holding myself to the expectation to write, but I didn’t, really. I didn’t stop wanting to write, no matter how hard I tried. Like I said, torture.

There have been gaps over the years where some spark of inspiration has come through, and I managed to follow it. I would cling to those few precious days or weeks, but the momentum always wore off just as the anxiety crept back in: that my writing was a joke, and everyone was in on it except me. (Grad school, like, really messed me up.)

Writing still feels uncomfortable for me. I have not had some kind of miracle breakthrough. Making this Substack live took me something like six months. But I have been writing. Slowly, sometimes arduously. With immense intention. And I want to share—actually, okay, I’m terrified of sharing. But I think I want to lean into that.

Have you ever had a Charley Horse? They’re these awful muscle spasms, and I get them in my calves sometimes. I used to fight against them, and then I learned that the trick is to take a deep breath and slowly flex my foot to stretch the muscle. It’s slightly more painful for a bright, hot second, and then the pain is gone. I’ve found this tactic works for my panic attacks as well. We want to feel scared for no reason? Alright, let’s feel scared for no reason! And then, suddenly, I’m not scared anymore.

This is like that. Charley Horses and panic attacks. Fun! I’m leaning into my fear. I’m being present. Get it—currently?? Full circle! I am currently writing and sharing my writing. And maybe the momentum will wear off. Maybe I’ll get scared again, and I’ll stop writing. If it does happen, whatever, right? It literally does! not! matter! But I bet I’ll come back, eventually.

If you’re my friend, and you subscribed to this newsletter, thank you. It really does mean so much to me that you’re here. I wish I could commit to some consistency in terms of content (poetry? book reviews? ramblings like this? all of the above?) or frequency of posting, but I’m hoping you’ll all just join me for the ride while I figure it out.