I Disappeared For 12 Months. Now I’m Back.
Here’s why
Photo by HANUMAN PHOTO STUDIO on Pexels
Five years ago, I published my first Medium article.
It was about my dad.
I went on to share stuff that I’d only told my therapist. Not having many friends. Screwing up relationships. Feeling unlovable.
I didn’t know it at the time, but writing would change my life.
For better and worse.
Here’s the story.
Screaming into a void
The fact people left comments on my early articles was crazy to me.
Why do they give a f*ck?
These comments became addictive. So did writing. I spent hours on the platform, studying the best writers, and doing everything I could to get into Medium’s top publications.
Then another crazy thing happened: I started to make friends here. Like actual, real friends. We spoke over Zoom.
One of these became my girlfriend.
And the money. Oh, the money! I still remember the day I made $0.10 from Medium’s Partner Program.
The more zeroes I added, the more magical it felt.
Writing then morphed into something else. I kept studying the best writers. I got better. And before long, people were reaching out to see if I could write for them:
Screenshots from DMs and emails
I took on more clients — mostly by accident. I sent invoices. I opened a business bank account.
Before long, writing became my main hustle.
Soon after, I quit my job, dived in full-time, and was on my way to making $8K a month.
I couldn’t believe it. (I still can’t.)
I also tried the “digital nomad life”. Paris. Budapest. New York. I was mixing up cultures and sampling delights from around the world.
I should have been happy, right?
I was free.
I had everything I could possibly have dreamed of.
So why did I feel miserable as f*ck?
It was a first-world problem, but a problem, nonetheless.
I picked away at it.
And my views on freedom — especially schedule freedom — changed.
For the longest time, I fetishized having a blank calendar. I used to post on LinkedIn about having all this white space:
Screenshot from my LinkedIn post
But in reality?
I was bored.
And doing the same things over and over and over again made me question what it was all for.
“You are in danger of living a life so comfortable and soft that you will die without ever realizing your true potential.” — David Goggins
Freedom left me feeling empty
I was brainwashed.
I consumed so much content about “freedom”.
Travelling the world with zero responsibilities and drinking in fancy bars — that was my dream. I put it on a pedestal.
And I’ll be frank: Doing this for the first time is exciting!
But once the freedom rush wears off, you’re left feeling naked and alone. Those empty Airbnbs with glorious aircon drone out the little voice in your head that asks, “What’s next?”
You know there must be more to life than this.
And then the bubble burst
2024 was a mess for me.
My mum was diagnosed with cancer.* I broke up with my ex. My biological dad passed away. I lost a major writing client. I was hit in a car crash. I accepted a 9–5 job I didn’t particularly like. Then my stepdad — who I was actually close to — died from brain tumours.
It felt like one thing after another.
And those “good habits” I’d been developing for the past five years?
Poof. Up in smoke.
I was more lost than ever.
*My mum’s in the all clear now, thank god.
So I told myself 2025 would be a year of “calm”
I would support me and my mum.
That was my goal.
And slowly but surely, things started to improve. I dated again. I enjoyed trips away. I rented my place on Airbnb. I hosted a cocktail party. I celebrated one year with my girlfriend. I found a 9–5 job I actually like. I turned 30.
2025 has been one of my favourite years to date.
And I’m finally ready to write again.
What’s next?
I don’t know.
I burned my email list to the ground, so I’d be starting from scratch.
But that’s okay. I like having a clean slate to work from. That’s what my early days of writing were all about; trying to make sense of my feelings.
Therapy in public, if you will.
So there you have it: The ramblings of a privileged 30-year old.
I’m not sure if they help you. I’m not even sure they’ve helped me. But if there’s one final thought I can leave you with, let it be this:
Keep on writing.
There’s a good chance it’ll lead you out of chaos.
