In recent years, my desire to express myself has been diminishing. This is evident in my WeChat Moments: from 12 posts in 2020, down to 6 each in 2021 and 2022, with a slight rebound to 10 in 2023. In my blog, I published over 30 programming notes and algorithm articles in 2020, attracting nearly a thousand followers. In 2021, I released about a dozen articles on model algorithms. However, there were no updates in 2022 or 2023.
As I accumulate knowledge and experience, I find my urge to express waning. I often feel like an observer, struggling to truly engage with my surroundings. Things that once excited me have become mundane. This apathy confuses me, but I haven’t lost enthusiasm for life. The thrill of achievements still exists, just shorter-lived. I’m starting to ponder the nature of this psychological shift.
Concerns About Content Quality
Insights I gathered in the past often seem outdated after a few years, making me worry my content might suffer the same fate. To avoid this, I tend to write about foundational theories or technical topics. Yet, I’m more collecting than expressing. I want to appear knowledgeable, but feel my knowledge and experience are limited, hindering deep discussions. Despite rich practical experience, it’s often context-specific.
I’m apprehensive about sharing notes or writing tutorials. On one hand, reviewing my past notes, they seem superficial and low-quality—official docs might be better. On the other, tutorials lack technical depth. Still, I review thoroughly before publishing, researching extensively to enrich content. This pursuit of superficial comprehensiveness prevents deep dives. I’ve read articles by tech experts who offer diverse solutions to small problems, analyzing pros and cons; or provide unique insights that inspire profound understanding. I struggle to break from existing content; I don’t want readers thinking, “A bunch of rambling, that’s it?”
Moreover, my obsession with “consistency” has become a burden. I want my writing to follow patterns, structuring articles with clear paragraphs and headings, organizing ideas clearly, highlighting key info and citing sources. But this becomes an extra burden, making me question: Do I really want this? Who am I writing for? Though I crave free writing, I feel constrained, hesitant to let loose. This is probably why I haven’t uploaded my writings to public platforms in the past two years.
Fear of “Not Being Understood”
Beyond the above, I often worry my views won’t be understood if shared. I’ve read and thought a lot, finding my focus differs from others’, but I seek resonance through reading, not expression. Sometimes I want to share ideas, but doubt if my knowledge supports clear articulation, leaving me overwhelmed. Over time, this has diminished my desire to express.
Expressing and sharing is a filtering process to find like-minded souls. Stopping might mean despair in finding them, or already having found them. For me, I don’t think I’ve found such people yet.
Lack of Sharing Mindset
I’ve drifted away from a sharing mindset. One evening at Yanqi Lake, I was captivated by the sunset. I took photos but didn’t think to post on Moments or share with groups or individuals. This contrasts with my high school and early college mindset, puzzling me.
Personality Traits
I’ve heard discussions about personality types, like classifying as I (introverted) or E (extroverted). One day, I tested myself and got “INTP-A / Logician.”
The “A” in INTP-A stands for Assertive. This suffix indicates a relatively stable, confident, self-driven attitude, contrasting with INTP-T (Turbulent). INTP-A types are calmer and more confident under pressure. They trust their abilities and decisions, less affected by external opinions. This analytical, critical nature can complicate decision-making. They might seem indecisive in fast-paced situations. This fits my daily life and work, especially in decisions or social settings.
I’m skeptical of such labels, reluctant to reduce complex personalities to letters. But perhaps they’re tools for self-understanding, not boxes.