The Why's

I stopped writing because I stopped being authentic for a while now. For years now, actually. And oh how I missed both.

As a blogger, I write personal experiences. I put my thoughts, feelings, and experiences to writing. That's just what I do, ever since I was an awkward high-schooler sharing her teenage dramas and daily musings on Xanga. I am blessed to have been able to make a living out of it.

I never felt held back then. I would express how I felt freely and honestly, without too much thought about what others might think when they read my posts. I remember one time, a relative scolded me for sharing "too much" about my struggles online. It didn't bother me one bit. I did it for myself. It was my therapy.

The past years, things have changed. Suddenly there was just too much shame in sharing where I am in the different seasons of my life. It started after some slips with drugs and alcohol. A lie in my head said that it was hypocrisy to talk about my struggles and my failures. How would people react when I had just shared my testimony as a Christian proclaiming to have found freedom from addiction through Christ? It never reached the point that it was as bad as it used to, but I just had unattainably high expectations from myself. I pressured myself to get it perfectly right away. I envisioned the walk as a linear journey. A few months off drugs and alcohol must've meant I've "graduated" from it. A few moments of passion and boldness for the Lord must've meant I'm becoming a "next-level" Christian. A few months of consistency in reading the Bible must've meant I'm untouchable by the enemy.

Now I laugh at this perspective. I see it as a grandiose delusion to even think for a second that I'll eventually walk this walk immaculately.

The increase of my following count on social media also got to my head. I guess I am an "online celebrity" to some extent, and the pressure to keep things 100% positive 100% of the time just got too real. I started carrying the weight of other people's expectations of me, and I got scared to fall short.

I'm not saying I'm obligated to share everything happening to me, or that I must disclose every detail in every story to my followers.

It's just that I've been operating in fear. And if what motivates one to act is fear, the restrictions that come with it just inevitably become a burden too great to bear. The fear of being called a hypocrite. The fear of losing the likes. The fear of losing online friends. The fear of being misunderstood and getting hate.

I AM EXHAUSTED.

"The price of acceptance is too high if it costs you who you are."

It's been 7 years of writing on and off. Of writing "safely" to preserve the Stacy I was curating online. It's annoying because I have programmed myself to have this inauthentic, commercialized voice when I write the past couple of years. If you've been following me for quite some time now, it is pretty obvious. There's nothing "me" in there. I'd just put words together to construct a fairly decent article. It's never from the soul. And it makes me feel like a fraud.

I don't want to keep pleasing other people anymore. I miss being me. I miss writing from the heart—a sincere place of honesty and authenticity. I just want to write for me again. Write to release. Write to understand myself better.

Writing has always been a crucial part of my existence, hence the frustration and anger for stopping for so long.

Thank God for endless chances to try again and start again.

Today I am more grounded in how I view my walk as a Christian. Instead of thinking that I've earned "points" every time I do something right, I remind myself that I am just a wretch receiving the unrelenting grace of Jesus. I HAVEN'T EARNED ANYTHING AND I NEVER WILL. It is only His righteousness in me through the cross that makes me capable to obey. It's not about feeling proud about what I do or what I no longer do anymore, because at the core I am still as sinner and I am just a sinner. My good works are nothing but filthy rags to God. And I can't parade rags to a King. Doing so would be utterly foolish.

My hope is in Jesus. He's all I have left.

God has His ways of disciplining His children. I have been humbled from my state of self-righteousness. It's terrifyingly painful, but I'm still grateful nonetheless.

I am slowly rediscovering who I am in Christ. Looking back, it's been a year of being in limbo in my spiritual walk. I have become overly dependent on my sister to drag me with her as she pursued God. I became her tail; I thought following her lead would be enough to keep my soul nourished. But now I am learning that there's no such thing as secondhand faith. I have to get up on my own two feet and start pursuing Jesus by myself.

So this is where I am. This is why I haven't been writing. I hope as I move forward, things start to creep upward from here.

I ask you for your prayers.

Thank you, friends.