I’ve got so many things I want to write about. My mind a constant stream of thoughts all combined together in a way perhaps only Shola can understand. Sometimes I start sentences mid-way because I start the conversation at least 5 mins in my head before I actually voice them out. People’s expression of “what the…” stops me mid-way and I back track immediately whilst apologising profusely. I apologise because I don’t want them to think I’m weird. But then again maybe I am.
Weird in the sense of “being unique” at my own game, my own purpose and my own passion. Prior to Enecoma and writing professionally, I stayed awake most nights struggling to get my thoughts in a relaxed order. I believed only when I managed this would I master the art of falling asleep whenever I wanted to. Something my husband finds so easy to do. I work hard at learning to sleep but hubby just has to say the word and he’s in dreamland climbing mountains and breaking barriers. Life can be unfair right? I digress.
Writing professionally meant there was a genuine purpose for a write up. A reason to write. Someone to write for. Something specific to write about. A lot of people could and would read this. These were not just posts on social media or write ups saved in my folder or on my home laptop. These were words that were no longer mine but a perception of conversations, discussions, experiences and expectations of another. Words put together for someone. Words fulfilling a need, a purpose, a direction for another.
With Enecoma, I find that when this words are written and I shut my laptop every evening after working on a write up project, I go to bed and just like my husband, say the word and immediately fall into a deep sleep.
Perhaps I should have titled this “writing to sleep”
