Most nights, especially work nights, I’d be asleep by 8:00pm and already starting work at 6:00am.

Last night while laying down, I got to thinking about what my daughter said, regarding one of her friends going through my blog and re-reading my old posts (and how they got to talking about my book).

And I did the same, go through each posts, one after another.

And I got to thinking, why am I not writing anymore? What actually happened?

I miss the writer who was intentional. Who is not afraid to show and express her vulnerability. She who is courageous enough to express her thoughts and feelings in writing. And it made me sad.

I wish I can tell you exactly the reasons for my absence but I myself am not sure. Perhaps I am just making up all these unnecessary excuses and blaming it on something else when I should be blaming myself.

Writing for me is therapeutic. It gives me an overwhelming sense of peace and joy. And so does my photography.

For 2024, I am going to challenge myself to write a minimum of one post each month and if I’m able, a post each week – max.

As I am writing this, I realize again that writing shouldn’t be difficult and it should flow freely. And the only way to do that is to just be myself and to let my vulnerabilities shine through, like always.

Here’s to a new year full of writing possibilities and growing together. Life after all is a story waiting to be told.

Until next time,