Removing the Muzzle

I wasn’t going to start a blog.

I want to be a novelist—not a blogger—but my higher power had other plans.

Last week at the gym, a woman approached me and launched into rapid-fire questions.

Her focus was sharp:

What is your job title?

What are you doing with your life?

I recognized it immediately.

After being married to an interrogator (yeah, I picked a real winner), I know what information extraction looks like. The pace, the pressure, the way the questions stack—it’s intentional.

Designed to catch you off guard.

She mostly responded with a polite, noncommittal “interesting” when I told her about my plans to become a novelist and content creator. To her credit, she did identify herself as a content creator, even if she wasn’t entirely honest about why she was asking.

I don’t hold that against her.

But during the conversation, she asked a simple question:

“Do you have a blog?”

My immediate internal reaction was recoil.

Pure disdain.

That bothered me.

I want to be a writer—so why does the word blog repulse me? I sat with that question for days.

The answer, when it came, was uncomfortable.

But obvious.

That voice isn’t mine.

It’s leftover.

My ex used to rail against bloggers—insisting no one cared about their opinions.

He knew I wanted to become a writer.

He called them idiots.

Useless.

Irrelevant.

Waste of space.

After years of hearing it, that voice still tries to surface.

But it doesn’t belong to me.

And I’m done carrying it.

I am not becoming a blogger.

I am removing the muzzle that once constrained me.