For a long time, I’ve been waiting to say it. To state what it is I need to say. Knowing that once it’s said, I can move on. And I’ve avoided even daring to think about what it is I need to say. Avoiding taking the time to sit down and let it tumble out of my head where it clogs my arteries of thought like karmic cholesterol.
Waiting is hard. And yet easier than the next step. Sometimes. Until it isn’t anymore. In this article from Lifehack, I found some very sound advice on moving onwards. And a wonderful quote from Anaïs Nin.
“And the day came when the risk
to remain tight in a bud
was more painful than the risk
it took to blossom.”
I have felt stuck on a precipice, a threshold where I teeter being held back only by my own arms. And somehow, that is comfortable. I’m disassociated from what I see beyond the doorway. I’m not allowed to dream those dreams out there. Wouldn’t want to get stuck out there and be unable to get back to here. The comfortable muddy stuck place of which I know of.
I watched the women at the Blog U ’14 conference. I watched them hard. Their interactions and authenticity and needs like advertisements pinned to their pretty dresses. And I wondered what I was doing here really. I couldn’t see where I fit into this picture. I wasn’t this kind or that kind. I was tired and sick and beaten. But I stayed as present as possible. Because my disconnect was so strong that I needed to get through to the other side to see why.
On the other side now, I have a feeling I know exactly what’s going on. This feeling of numbness means I have to finally take it all seriously. To start walking the walk and stop talking the walk. I need to decide what one little ‘it’ is and move. Declare my intentions and own my talent. Submit my writing and allow the doors to open. Have faith. Let go of comfortable hopelessness. Getting out of my head and on with my life.
I need to decide my life story in my way by my own means and madness. Not by the stories others tell of me. Not worrying about doing it right. Just doing it. These women gathering at this blogging conference stressed that we can’t do it alone. And if I take nothing else away, I’ll remember that. We are greater for the sum of our parts. We really can’t do it alone.
I was recently reminded that I’m a personal essayist. I want to get paid to write. I want to say “I’m a freelance writer” without the twitchy ‘waiting to be busted’ feeling at the end. I am simultaneously wanting to be legitimized and terrified of being legitimate. I fear success not failure. Because once you get that plate spinning in the air on a stick, you have to keep it there.
And eventually, I’ll probably want to publish a book. I’ll be hooked on wanting to know what else I can compose of my lessons. I’m going to need people to support me and read my stuff and that’s why I need you and you and anyone else you know to like my pages and places and hang out with me online everywhere. When the opportunity comes, I’ll be ready to grab my help.
More importantly, through these interactions with people are countless opportunities to learn lessons and to be humbled and grateful for our oneness with a larger human community. Countless moments to feel loved by complete strangers and close friends and to exponentially offer that love back to others.
And that is what I was gifted from these powerhouse speakers at #BlogU14. I am not alone. I don’t suck. I am a freelance writer. I have a lot talent and passion and drive. And I am ready to step into my Shalagh suit and wear it with pride. This empress’ new clothes are almost visible. I’m beginning to see the visible me and not the invisible me.
I am about to begin a couple new projects and increase my participation in creativity and career. One Instagram project starts today. And a project called 50 Asks inspired by Tammie Bennett and Sandra Harris. I’ll fill you in the next posts.
Visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or you can find me on Twitter or Pinterest too. I am always practicing Intentional Intouchness. Chat at me and I’ll chat atcha back. Thanks to you as always for your visit.