At 34, here I am, diving into the world of blogging. Writing has always been my passion – for the past 18 years, in fact. But it’s always been by hand, scrawled in notebooks. There comes a point, though, when you start questioning the purpose behind all of this. Is it worth sharing your innermost thoughts with the world? After all, my writing is raw, real, and personal – the kind of stuff you’d hesitate to share with anyone, let alone put it online for all to see.
There are countless blogs out there. So why on earth would anyone want to read mine? What makes my words worth anyone’s time? Could I even build an audience? But here’s the thing: after 34 years of life, I’ve learned that many people can relate to what I’ve been through. They’ve experienced similar things, felt similar emotions, and had the same thoughts. I’ve realised that talking openly about those things we so often keep to ourselves can make others feel seen, heard, and understood. My reflections might help someone – somewhere. And I now know that the purpose of me starting this writing journey at such a young age was always meaningful. Even then, I had a voice that was wise beyond my years, ready to be heard.
Now, if you saw me on a regular day, you might think I’m unapproachable – that I’m one of those people you wouldn’t expect to have gone through all this. But I’m not unapproachable; I’m just lost in my thoughts, analysing the world around me, trying to make sense of it all. The truth is, you might not know me personally, but I have a feeling you’ll get to know me quite well through my writing.
I’m not claiming to have lived through the worst. In fact, I write from a place of peace and contentment, with a few tangled reflections along the way. I’m still on this journey, still figuring things out. But I’ve come to appreciate who I am today, and I’m eternally grateful for everything I’ve been through. The one thing that’s always helped me through it all has been my writing. When the people around me didn’t understand me, I needed an outlet – and that very first Tinkerbell journal at 16 became my lifeline.
Growing up without much guidance (not through anyone’s fault), I had to figure out life on my own. And I’m still figuring it out. It’s funny, really – at the time, I didn’t realise that Tinkerbell was me. Not because I’m some sort of fairy, but because I’m feisty, stubborn, sassy, and yes, hot-tempered (though not as much as I once was!). And so, the writing began.
Now, 18 years later, I’m ready to share myself in a way that very few have ever seen – raw, unfiltered, and real. No fancy lessons on writing, no professional touch. Just an ordinary woman, navigating an extraordinary world, sharing my experiences and reflections while balancing a day job.
There’s no particular order here. This is my life in real-time – reflections as they come, with glimpses into the past. After all, the past shapes who I am today. It all matters, as we continue on this journey of self-discovery together. It’s all a bit of a tangled mess, much like the cables behind your TV. And yes, there’ll be some foul language from time to time. Let’s be honest – sometimes you can’t get more real than that!
But above all, I hope you find something here that resonates with you, wherever you are in the world. And always remember, choose kindness. We’re all figuring it out, no one’s got it all worked out.
Yours,
Nobody but Somebody x
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