I’ve had this blog since November 2013, which makes it just over six years old.
I started it as a final-year university student, while recovering from a particularly bad depressive episode.
I had “interrupted” my studies (a strange term that I’ll probably never get used to) and postponed my final exams by a year as I was in no state to study, or use my brain in general.
And so it was in November 2013 that I found myself living at home in Thailand, with time on my hands.
And I started this blog.
In a way this is no surprise. I had always considered myself a writer. I made a few attempts at young adult and fantasy fiction as a 17-year-old. And at school and university I always enjoyed the process of writing essays and considered myself rather good at it.
So I became a blogger.
In retrospect, this was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
Blogging not only provided me with a creative outlet, but also – as intended – it gave me a sense of achievement, which was very important to a young, depressed person.
I could look back over the months – and did – and see all the articles I’d written. I saw that I could do something, produce something tangible. That I wasn’t useless.
Now, six years later, it’s also serving a different purpose: a mirror to look at my old self.
And what I see isn’t pretty.
I have read some of my old posts, and some of them sound like they were written by someone I would find cocky, possibly even obnoxious.
I’m not even sure how to describe it. But I wrote as if I knew best, doling out advice and recommendations. And reading it now makes me cringe.
I almost want to re-write all the offending posts with my current voice, which I find more balanced, less presumptive. But I’m not going to.
Because in a way, though it’s not pleasant to see, it’s nice to be able to glimpse at the old me – to be able to see how much I’ve changed, and how far I’ve come.
So I will keep my blog the way it is. And hope that I don’t offend too many people who may stumble across my older posts in the process.