I have had a pause from this blog for a few months. I have been having a little debate with myself about what should appear here on these pages. I started the blog at a time when I was searching for the return of joyful moments in my life. I am happy to say that the joy has returned and I would even say increased. I feel more connected with the richness of life than I ever have before.
So what to write or should I even write at all?
Recently I have come to accept that there is a writer inside me. Writing is an extension of who I am, the mountain of journals I have filled over the years is testament to that. I will always write whether what I write is read or remains gathering dust at the bottom of my wardrobe.
Writing is an interesting process, I write mostly to get stuff out of my head. It’s a useful tool and saves me from driving myself completely crazy at times. However writing this blog has shown me that there is also joy in being read. I like it that some of you relate to what I am saying or that my writing touches you in some way or maybe inspires you or supports you and helps you to feel you’re not alone.
The process of writing to be read has proven to be a unique and different challenge compared to the uncensored and random mind meanderings that fill my journals. I have felt confronted by the idea that I am sharing the real me in my words, it feels exposing and it is easy to let myself off the hook by deciding that no one will want to read my random thoughts.
I have made excuses, I have resisted and avoided but I cannot deny that I have a voice that wants to be heard and that writing is a constant urge. To not allow this part of me to birth feels as uncomfortable as owning it and allowing it to be seen and I feel that there is real value for me in owning and sharing all parts of myself. That I need the world to see all that I am. I crave the authenticity of that.
So why have I waited? Why have I not just jumped in boots and all? Well in some ways I haven’t waited, I have written a number of blog posts over the last few months but they all remain unpublished. I have found myself questioning the content of what I write. I have read my own writing and noticed that something is missing. I have been afraid to express what I really think and feel out loud and in colour. Integrity is high on the list for me when if come to the values that I hold dear. In my working life I will risk causing upset by being completely transparent and direct about what I am thinking and feeling because I see real value in a professional arena to be open about what needs to change, what we need to do to be better and what is holding us back from achieving what we want to achieve. So I feel it’s time to hold myself to account in my personal life as well and in my writing. To be totally honest and transparent about what I think and feel and who I really am on the inside. Even if it’s scary, even if it’s exposing.
You see so much of what we say and do is dictated by what we believe others think, from a desire to be liked and loved and from a fear of rejection. We conceal the parts of ourselves that we fear might not be accepted or that might be a little bit too much for people. We cripple our own spirits with self-judgement and our imagined projections of other people’s opinions. Even though we know in our hearts that life is too short to worry about what other people think.
I want to look back on my life and know that I was real and authentic and true to myself.
So you can expect more posts and you can expect more of ME in those posts. I make a commitment here to write what is real for me even if it is scary, exposing and may make you (or me) squirm. I will share parts of myself that you never knew existed. I will do this for me, because in the end of everything that is all we have and I know in the depths of my being that in honouring myself this way I also honour you.
What do you resist bringing forward in your life? What parts of you remain secret from the world? What is your constant urge? I invite you to share in comments below