I have been spending the past week contemplating the words that keep flowing from my heart, and landing here, on this page. I have questioned not the words themselves, but the very public way in which I’ve chosen to share them.
I have spent my week dancing with doubt, vulnerability, fear, and shame.
I have at times felt like pulling this page, hiding myself and my thoughts and my words away, in a place where they can’t be found.
This week, I feel as if I am spilling open, as the world bares witness to my messiness, my inner turmoil, to all the things that I usually keep hidden away.
In short, I feel as if I have exposed myself as the very human being that I am.
During this process, this search for my motivation for choosing to make my words accessible to all, I came to the realization that I wasn’t just setting these words free. I wasn’t writing to write and sharing to share, but in fact, I had expectations of how this choice of mine would affect people, how it would inspire them, excite them; how my inbox would fill with comments and thoughts from hearts that I had touched. When I saw friends that I haven’t seen since beginning this blog, I wondered why there was no mention at all. Why weren’t people saying anything? What’s the point of speaking out if nobody can hear you? What if nobody is listening?
What if they are?
So many questions. Expectations. Demands. A tremendous amount of pressure I put on myself. I had to take time to sit with this, you see. I needed space and time. It felt so enormous, like I had pulled on one thread, and slowly, over the course of a few days, I had unraveled myself.
In the end, we start at the beginning. My desire to share my experience of my daily practice comes from a place of love. It comes from the five-year-old me that wanted to save the world, to the thirty-six-and-a-half-year-old me that still believes that I can (I am still figuring out the how).
I felt stuck and silent in my life, and like I was holding myself back from accepting who I am and expressing who I am. And I believe that I am not the only one. I believe that there are many people out there, in the universe, who feel the same way.
Fear can be tricky and powerful. It can hold us suspended in mid-air, between yesterday and today; today and tomorrow. Fear can capture our voice and hold us hostage inside ourselves. It can make us unravel, unhinge. Fear can make us feel crazy, and fear loves to trick us into believing that we are alone in the struggle.
Here it is, the truth (again): I am not alone. And you are not alone.
I will keep writing. And you can keep reading.
I want to open my heart and express what is inside.
No strings attached.