The origin story of why I started this
(This post was originally shared on a public Notion page)
Hello strangers, and welcome to my very professional blog.
You can tell it’s very professional because there’s no way for anyone to subscribe to it. I also have no way of tracking 👀 views, ❤️ likes, 💬 comments, or whatever else people track these days — nothing.
That’s not the point of this thing. I don’t want to monetize this thing.
Now that that is out of the way…
I’ve always been somewhat of a writer. I believe we create (write, draw, compose, program, etc.) because we have stories in us that we need to get out.
I’m starting to write here because I need an outlet for my messy, weird, grief mind to feel safe being its messy, weird self.
I considered drawing comics, because I am a pretty visual person, but quickly decided against that for now. I hypothesize that the written format would allow my stream of consciousness to flow smoothly. Also because I’m a lazy person, and don’t wanna draw something that doesn’t help me get my point across. So here’s a wacky text + meme edition.
I also considered sharing on Twitter, but that’s too scary. I’d rather fly under the radar. So only people who voluntarily know what they’re signing up to read will read this.
I also, also considered starting a Substack, and I might still do it down the line. But since I already use Notion nearly every hour of the day, and pay for it - and since I’m Asian I wanna maximize value for my dollars - I figured Notion is a better place to get started.
So without further ado, here’s the origin story:
I lost my mom in the summer of 2021. It feels like a lifetime ago, yet I can still remember the painful but beautiful last moments like it was yesterday. I returned to my job full speed within a week because I was only a few months into my new job at an early-stage startup.
In the month or so that followed, I took on most of the responsibilities of settling the estate. Between that and other #adulting responsibilities, I was occupied during every waking hour and never had a chance to - and to be honest, didn’t want to - check in with myself.
Soon after my mom’s estate had been settled, I was finally hit with grief - which was hard, but I welcomed it. But I also started noticing that my mind seems to have been changed forever:
I’m a little slower responding to questions — a lot of times I have to “take it back and get back to you”.
It takes me noticeably more effort to come up with new ideas now. And because of that, I find myself often completely spent at the end of each day.
I make more stupid mistakes.
My short-term memory is absolutely a
trociousnot existent.I have uncontrollable, very strange, thoughts, at any odd hour of the day.
To function in society as a “normal” person, I put shackles around my mind. And it was all sunshine and rainbows (an exaggeration; it wasn’t) until exactly 5:23 am this morning when my mind, after nearly 8 months of relentless annoyance, finally won the protest and I gave in.
When I first started writing this, I wasn’t sure where it was going and wasn’t sure if I wanted to share it. And I still don’t, to be honest. Our society is scared of uncomfortable topics. But I need to get it out, so even if nobody reads it, it’s therapeutic for me to just type these words and see them in black and white.
And that’s where we are now.
Excuse my ghetto format.