It might seem like I’ve been pretty quiet over the last few months (hell, even the past year) when it comes to my writing.
It’s not that I haven’t had anything to say because goodness knows my brain is hopping with ideas 24/7 (yes, even my nighttime hours are active, my dreams are exhausting), it’s more that I’m consumed with worrying about what people will think of me when I reveal those thoughts.
I’m no stranger to going against the grain, but a lot of what has been occupying my mind this past year has been things that aren’t necessarily embraced lovingly by the fold.
I worry that I’ll disappoint people I love.
I worry I’ll be lambasted by people who will form opinions about me without even knowing anything about me or my life.
I worry. I worry. I worry.
And this worry has prevented me from writing anything publicly for some time now.
I’m starting to come out of my little cave where I live with my husband and son (my biggest fans) and peeking out and wondering if what I have to say has any place in the world. At least right now.
I’ve been doing a lot of growing and with that growth comes a lot of letting go.
Letting go of old beliefs. Old behaviors. Even old relationships that hold me back.
And through it all, I continue to scribble in notebooks and have my husband smile at me when I do because he knows that “it makes me so happy” and I wonder when those words will see the light of day.
Maybe they will soon. Maybe they never will.
I just know I’m continuing to grow as a writer, as a person…and that’s not always what people want from me.
Until then I’ll keep scribbling in those notebooks and keep peeking out from time to time to see how the water is…from where I’m sitting right now, it’s just fine.