Zero to One

Taking the first step is always the hardest. You have to fight inertia to move from point A to B

Getting from 0 to 1 is harder than getting from 1 to 10. Learning this has changed my approach to life. Starting anything from scratch is difficult. That’s how it feels whenever I take a hiatus from writing. I have been struggling to get back into rhythm, and it’s taking quite a toll on me.

These days, it feels like I’m running out of things to say. I wonder if it comes with age, or if I am now washed. This keeps me up at night, the fear that I have lost the one thing I’m not completely terrible at. Nothing is worse than sitting at your laptop and not being able to string words together. It feels like a slow death.

The problem, actually, is not that I don’t have things to say. On the contrary, I believe there are so many things bubbling on the inside, waiting to burst out. But for whatever reason, I can’t find the words. And as each day passes, my mind is weighed down by unexpressed ideas.

I read a lot. It’s easily one of my favourite things to do. My curiosity pushes me to the strangest places (not that I’m complaining), so I find myself reading things that don’t relate to my work or career. I read so many random (and interesting) things that feed my curiosity and vice versa. It’s the kind of feedback loop that keeps me alive.

Again, I love reading like a maniac. Every time I read, I get the urge to write. I sit at my laptop and hack my brain till I’m physically tired. Then I realise that my thoughts are too scattered, so I cannot write anything meaningful. Usually, I return to reading. Other times, I resume watching a show or depressing myself with every negative thought that pops up in my head.

I have been trying to break this pattern for months. Not being able to commit to an activity truly because I can’t stop distracting myself with these thoughts. I spend so much time worrying about what I could or should be doing and end up doing nothing. It’s a pattern I’m quite conscious of, and I can’t escape its jaws.

I wonder if the problem is that I read too many random things. I find myself looking for connections in ideas that I haven’t fully digested. My brain is all over the place, toggling between thoughts and ideas while also worrying about being interested in several things. I want to write about music, films, culture, consciousness, and quantum mechanics at once.

I tell myself I need to slow down. I need to sit and gather my thoughts. I need to express my ideas coherently. I get distracted way too easily. I need to write as often or more than I read. I need to think less and do more. That’s one pattern that’s sabotaging my life, spending so much time thinking rather than doing. My thoughts haunt me. My fears and doubts.

I hate being vulnerable. But I always end up there with writing. My biggest fears reveal themselves. Like the fear that my life is wasting away while I watch the days drift by with nothing to show for it. That I’m the firstborn son, and I’m not leading by example. That my peers are excelling while I rot away.

Another fear that paralyses me is that I’m not certain my writing connects with my audience as much as it used to. I tell myself that I’m the problem. Perhaps it’s not the audience, it’s me. How can people connect to my writing when I’m unsure of it myself? I’m riddled with so many insecurities and doubts, I might be scaring readers away. I’ve been stuck in this loop for weeks, dealing with chronic anxiety.

There’s a shame attached to baring one’s self in the open like this. It’s a shame that I carry with me because, as much as I know better, it feels like showing the world my weaknesses and struggles. There’s a certain self-image I’m compelled to portray, a sense of identity I’m convinced I need to maintain. Writing takes it all away, leaving the shame of oversharing. There’s so much baggage that I need to let go of, and that’s where the lines sometimes get blurred - where writing meets oversharing.

I’ve been learning to be grateful for life regardless. Every new day is an opportunity to try again. To give it one more shot. Hope is a well that never runs dry. I’m learning to take it one step at a time, and to give myself grace whenever I falter. My goal is to write and publish a lot more this year, increase readership, and establish myself better on Substack. It’s going to be challenging, but that’s what growth requires: challenges.