Lately I’ve been asking myself: do people still read? Can I hold your attention longer than an Instagram reel? On which word or paragraph will I lose your focus?

I ask because I’m guilty too. I used to finish a 300-page book in a week. Now I can barely get through five pages without getting distracted. It makes me wonder if that same plague of distraction is why I struggle to make time to write, always worrying about what I could possibly say that would keep your attention.

If you’ve made it to this paragraph, you’re amazing. You’ve made it to the decisive moment of a reel, the point that determines whether my hook worked or not. Since you’re still here, maybe people do still read. Maybe our attention spans aren’t as lost as we think. Let’s keep going.

Recently, whenever someone asks, “Grace, did you stop writing?” or “Why don’t I see your posts anymore?” I scream in my head a little. I hate that I’ve lost the consistency I once had. I usually smile and say, “I still write, just not as often,” then cook up an excuse that makes my inconsistency feel valid, at least to me.

But I’ve realized something. I have been consistent. Just not at writing. The problem isn’t consistency. It’s what I’ve allowed to take the place of writing.

Pardon me for mentioning writing so much, but it is the only true escape I have. The one place that remains untainted no matter what life looks like. Ironically, that makes it terrifying. Instead of returning to the thing that comes most naturally, I fill my time with problems that need fixing. Somehow, struggle feels more rewarding than peace.

Maybe that’s why reading books feels like work now. Why writing sometimes is a burden. The easier something comes to me, the easier it is to neglect it. I’m sharing this because I want you to know you’re not alone. Chasing your dreams can feel like a privilege you can never quite afford, but I have a theory.

Maybe it’s because your little efforts don’t seem to make any difference.

I started writing with just one person in mind: you. If I could make a difference to just one person, that was enough to keep me going. Then somewhere along the way, one became ten, ten became a hundred, and eventually a thousand. Strangely, the bigger the audience became in my mind, the smaller my courage grew.

I stopped writing for one person and started trying to write for everyone. That’s when I slowly lost the very person I started with and blamed it on the complexities of life.

I’ve come to realize that every dream begins with a simple reason: your why. When that can no longer be as simple as adding value to one person’s life, your small efforts begin to feel insignificant, and the dream starts to drift farther away.

Next time, we’ll talk about why your dreams cannot be a way out, but rather the path to your becoming. Until then, let’s keep at it, shall we?

Song of the moment – Until the Light by Rave Jesus, SON., and Kwesi.