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Writer's pictureWairimu Ndung'u

Starting Over Works

So I do it ALL the time…

high angle image of yellow flowers against the sky

I haven’t been on social media in a while. Actually, scratch that,

I deleted ALL my social media accounts at the beginning of this year — for the second time.

As my brother likes to say, “you literally start new lives”. And he’s right, I do. I shut down everything that no longer serves who I’ve grown into. I listen to my Authentic Power and move on to the next.

That explains the fate of my first two blogs and maybe even my inability to remain in circles I’ve outgrown. Circles where I can’t quite exist as my most authentic self.


I don’t really like second opinions or any input for that matter when I’m following my gut.

I didn’t like it in high school when I packed everything up after falling into severe trauma-related depression. Before this even became a thing in my part of the world.

I arrived home to tell my parents that I wouldn’t be returning to my previous school — I’d rather drop out (didn’t really consider this a threat). I actually sent letters ahead of time with my “stipulations” like the broken badass I was…still am (minus the broken part).

Neither did I really leave room for negotiations when I realized law school wasn’t for me. I even prepared two PowerPoint presentations: One highlighting all my entertainment-related P.R campaigns that year.

It was complete with pictures and testimonials. Including the brilliant event I designed. And the talented music band I managed as a publicist that went on to succeed. (I guess my incessant calls and emails maybe paid off?)

This was my way of making a solid case for a Journalism degree.

For presentation number two, I compared the fee structures of my then university and my current one. Since I wasn’t gonna give them a law degree, I had to go out with a convincing argument… a convincing argument that I never got to share.

Because my mother, having been in this position before knew exactly what to do. Trust me.

And so she said, “Just tell me where you want to go”.

I did.


Life in the present

black girl in white top smiles facing the right side away from the camera
Photo by @andrewkendungu and Make-Up by @beautybox_bykui on Instagram

My gut’s back. It’s back nudging me. Harassing me really. Reminding me why I started all this.

I wrote so many articles on my first little blog, on a not-so-popular domain. I didn’t care about making money, people liking me (as such). I just really wanted to touch lives.

To soothe people with my words just as they soothed me. Just like they continue to heal me.

Without the pressure, without the formalities. Kinda like what Glennon Doyle does in her memoirs (Love Warrior changed my life). Because words kept me alive throughout my seven-year battle with depression.

They’re the only channel of expression I’ve ever known. It’s my words, it’s always been my (written) words.


Now I’m all “grown” and I’ve been hiding behind copywriting (which I'm good at) for what feels like too long in my opinion. Much as I always wanted to just spew my own thoughts without the pressures of daily living the Wi-Fi bill needs to be paid.


However...

Writing all this, here, once again, feels like a homecoming. I feel the blood rushing into my feet as it pumps through my heart.

I must say, I feel free because I’m writing just for me again. And there’s no agency checklist I necessarily have to follow.

I am LIVING. No longer just alive.

So I’m making this my new not-so-little corner. I’m louder, stronger, and more centered. And if anything changes I roll with the currents, I evolve.

Because I don’t owe anyone an older version of myself.

Yet I must respond to the call when my current self beckons. And this, right here, this is my answer; writing again.

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