How do you get to a better version of yourself?

I started writing poetry in first grade. I had a little notebook that I dutifully carried around with me, and I scribbled my musings about bugs and flowers and the people I loved into it with a #2 pencil.

In junior high, I graduated to writing short stories (mostly about spunky tomboys) crosslegged in front of an electric typewriter resting on a stack of books on my bed so its motor wouldn’t overheat. 

I felt so important writing papers on my first laptop as an English major my freshman year in college. But I quickly found that being told when and what to write obliterated my inspiration. I changed my major, but kept doodling poems on the margins of my handwritten notes in my psych and kinesiology classes.

If you had asked me in college, I would have told you that I could only write well when I was sad.

From my vantage point now, I’d say it turns out I can write when I’m most connected to myself and the world. (It just happened that, as a college student I felt closest to myself  through the experience of heartbreak over a boy and doubt about my life.)

Last Friday, after eating dinner outside at a local sushi place with my sweetie, I had a double-take moment with a former client walking by on the sidewalk. She mentioned that she’s been enjoying reading my newsletters, and complimented my writing. 

It felt good to hear, as it feels sweet when I receive a quick email from someone telling me when they appreciate something I’ve written.

That said, I also usually get a handful of people unsubscribe from my list after each newsletter I send.

I’m learning to take both forms of feedback a little less personally.

Though it’s easy to make writing these articles something I have to do to be a good business owner, I’m more motivated to write them when I remember that writing is about being a version of myself that I like.

As I mentioned above, I can only write when I’m connected to myself. It requires being slower. It usually requires time on my yoga mat or on a walk in nature without talking to a friend or listening to a podcast. 

It takes having access to the witness part of me—the part with the softer focus on things who seeks understanding in a given situation. 

That’s in juxtaposition to all the other parts who are more hawk-eyed, fearful and judgmental, and who seek to control in a given situation. Turns out those parts aren’t as poetic.

Even when I don’t actively open the door to the writerly self in me, it still invites itself in—usually at 3 in the morning. I wake up and it’s just there, wanting to figure out the words to put to a certain experience.

As engrossing as those middle of the night sessions of writing something in my head can be, I know I’m better off when I make time in the day to get in touch with that writerly self. In part because sleeping seems like a more reasonable thing to do at 3am, and in part because I’m just a better me when I write (or prepare myself for my writerly self) during the day. 

And by better you could say that I’m less edgy and more present to the people around me, which would be true.

But what feels more accurate is that by better I mean aligned with a deeper, truer part of myself. I mean being connected to the through line that has been a part of me since the days of my #2 pencil and poems about my stuffed animals. 

Writing, for whatever reason, is a part of what has always been essential to me. Not writing (whether for publication or for myself) is one of the canaries in my personal coal mine. 

What is essential to you?

What has brought you joy since you were a kid, and makes you a better version of yourself when you make time and space for it?

If you haven’t been doing it lately, what do you need to do/not do/restructure/commit to to get it back? 

Consider this a gentle nudge from someone who is rooting for you to be in touch with a version of yourself you’ve known and liked for a long time.

And if you’re still reading this, thanks for meeting me in one of my happy places.

If you’re wanting to reliably be a better version of you, check out Yours Truly.

Jay Fields