Thanks mom, for this reminder.

Sometimes we need to have others call us out on our shit.

You’d think that as soon as we ourselves recognize our pitfalls, we’d do something about it.

But other times, like this one, it takes someone else to notice and call you out on it.

So here’s the tea: 

Today, my mother confronted me about some things that have changed about me.

She noticed I stopped taking interest in things I used to love: writing in my journal, ukulele, reading books, watching documentaries. She asked me, where did your love for these things go? (which only made me think of Calvin Harris’ “How Deep is Your Love?” — apparently not deep enough at the moment) 

But subconsciously, I knew the answer:

I have felt like I’ve lost my purpose.

I’m not podcasting, interviewing sources, photographing subjects or writing poetry. To say in the least, I’m not taking advantage of the inspiration that’s around me.

I’m a post-grad still on the job hunt and I feel like my purpose is little to non-existent.

I wake up everyday around 7:30 a.m., go to the gym for an hour, shower, come home, do some work and apply for jobs at Starbucks, do minimal tidying of my room, call a couple of friends to catch up, go to work at my part time job, and repeat.

It’s mundane to say in the least.

But I had observed in the past month or so I’d been on a downward slope, seeping into more negative numbers everyday — but not to the point where it was affecting my mental health at large — it was simply an observation I had noticed and planned on changing AFTER my China trip.

I figure after the trip is best because I’ll come back refreshed and inspired and have more writing content by then. But instead, I let myself become absorbed into a vortex of mundanity — a life where nothing was created at the end of the day.

But, today, just two days before this trip, my mother reminded me of why it’s important to complete each day feeling accomplished, to have made something that is your own.

“Where have the blog posts gone? You used to sit in your room and write for hours, and now, you don’t.”

She reminded me of the person I was and the person who I let go of these past couple months.

I told her it’s partly due to my feeling of a lack of purpose, but it’s also me.

I must hold myself accountable.

I am my own problem and my own solution.

For the past month, I’ve been lazy with creating new content and ideas — instead, I’ve been consuming too much — too much on social media, too much screen time on my phone — all that time I could be using to create, I’ve been using to consume.

So moving forward, I’m making a conscious effort to reduce my screen time — to silence my social notifications after 10 pm and to not use my phone an hour before bed (or whatever the newest scientific research suggests — Tomorrow, that time will probably be reduced to 1 hour and 1 min before bed.)

In trying to get back to the Megan I know that loves to write, that loves to jam on her ukulele, that loves to create word art, that writes punny cards and letters to friends, the Megan that writes articles… I am making a promise to myself I’m going to work on myself when I return from China.





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