It felt like I was married to one and having an affair with another, and it was hard to accept the truth or let go of either. Before you jump to conclusions, I’m talking about my marriage with Math and my love affair with writing.

Having graduated with a master’s degree in Math, I had dreams of becoming a mathematics professor. I even worked as a Math SME and tutor for college students for a few years. So, when life took a turn and I became a blogger and poetry customizer, it felt… weird (for lack of a better word).

My autoimmune condition demanded that I slow down, and the brain fog that came with it made teaching harder than before. Writing, on the other hand, became my refuge—my way of processing and expressing. Even when it wasn’t public, it lent a quiet shoulder to lean on. Little did I know, I had been in love with writing all along.

My amma often recalls how, even at the age of five, I would scribble and sign my name across pages of notebooks or any random scrap of paper I could find. She used to joke that I’d make a good stenographer someday. None of us knew I’d end up becoming a writer, least of all me. But now, looking back at all my childhood essays, the journals I still hold dear, and even the random bus tickets and tissue papers I scribbled on and secretly saved, I realise I was born in love with words: their sound, their shape, the meanings they hold, the silences they evoke, and the music they create. I just hadn’t taken them seriously… until now.

So, after years of being married to Math, officially committing to writing came with its share of guilt trips and self-doubt. Even until a few months ago, whenever someone asked about my profession, my answer kept changing—“freelancer,” “I write customised poetry for gifts,” “I translate research papers”—but never simply, writer.

The reason? I didn’t have a structured education or certification in writing. The irony? Everyone else already saw me as one. My clients were returning clients. My friends and family referred others to me for writing assignments.

It was only recently after reading a testimonial from a client who’s trusted me with poetry gift orders for over ten years, that I realised something important: I’ve sustained and grown in this field for a decade, without any advertising. That’s a success I hadn’t seen for myself, but others had seen all along.

That testimonial, with its mention of ten years, was my aha moment —an epiphany soon followed by enrolling in Bound’s publishing course, which finally helped me move toward an official marriage with writing.

Now, if you’re wondering whether that means I’ve broken up with Math, no, not at all. We’ve reconciled. In fact, through my writing, I plan to explore Math too. It’s no longer a case of a secret affair—it’s more like a beautifully balanced equation where both sides finally make sense.

And this time, words returned with conviction, not as a passing muse, but as a lifelong partner I’m finally ready to acknowledge.

This post is part of the Blogchatter Half Marathon.