So I've been wanting to write this blog post for a while now. Like 3 years while now. Yeah, I procrastinate to the ninth- go big or go home, amirite?
I sit here staring at my screen, longing to connect. To be seen, heard, and to make other's feel seen and heard. I sit here and all the words I have to say that flow so freely when I am in my car, by myself dry up and disappear. What?
The thing is I do have good stuff inside me clawing to get out. I do more than anything in this life desire to be useful, to support, to inspire thought and introspection.
So why am I at such a loss?
I am afraid. Afraid you won't like me. Afraid of doing the hard work of pulling back the layers to find there is no substance there. Afraid of embarrassing myself and my family. Afraid of not being enough. Of being too much. Afraid that I will bare my soul, and it won't resonate with anyone, and it will be confirmed that I don't belong. Or even worse, unoriginal and boring.
Whoa, well that just came out. Apparently your girl may be putting a tiny bit more pressure on herself then entirely necessary.
Sometimes, when shit gets too real, instead of siting with the uncomfortableness of it, we look for an escape. Like a valve to release the pressure. One of mine is to mindlessly scroll social media, which I just attempted to do. What to my wondering eyes did appear at the very top of my feed, but this post from Elephant Journal:
The universe is obviously not here for any of my nonsense this morning.
So, I'm just going to write. It won't be perfect, and it may not even be read by anyone except my husband and sister, but that's ok.
With Love and Fire,