Ten Reasons

13 02 2012

Top Ten Reasons I Never Considered Writing a Blog:

  1. Everyone is doing it.
  2. I have a journal.
  3. I am a private person.
  4. I’m not that interesting.
  5. It’s not my thing.
  6. I’m not any good.
  7. People might read it.
  8. Then they would see that I really can’t write.
  9. I don’t have time.
  10. I might enjoy it.

Originally, I intended this space to be for sharing creative things that I intend to write at some time in the future. I never intended this to be somewhere that I share things that I might write in a journal, or discuss with friends in various situations (which rarely happens because I have a journal for this type of thing and various other excuses for not joining in my own life).  But this is exactly what is happening in this space today. And before anyone starts, I am NOT putting myself down or anything close to that. I am simply trying to figure things out, and sometimes this is not a pretty process.

For the past year I have flirted with the idea of writing again.  Just flirting. Mostly wishful thinking. Until a couple weeks ago. It became imperative. So, I made myself start a blog. I bought notebooks for purposes other than journaling or taking notes in church. I got online. Read lots of blogs. Talked myself out of posting. Looked at my blank notebooks. Bought new pens. Read more blogs. Read books. You get the picture. I was doing everything except writing.

So I bought another book. And through some of the exercises I am beginning to realize what the big deal has been for me. My biggest fear has been that people would see who I really am, and…(insert really horrible, life ending things here). Irrational, I know, but real for me.

So I am testing the water.

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Creating Space

8 02 2012

Lately, I have been obsessed about having my own space. A part of it is that I need a place where I can be comfortable. A place where I can write, or just create things in general. I love making things. Today, I made coffee, breakfast, and homemade valentines. I wrote my morning pages. I took a picture of me holding my puppy. All of this while sitting at the kitchen table. Because even in my room, I have not made space for myself.

It is not always about having physical space. Throughout my life, I have worked hard to make myself as small as possible. Always seeing others as better or more important than myself, and my goal is to always see them succeed. Noble, right? Not so much. It’s more like this: There is nothing good in me, so I will make sure that everyone sees what you have to offer. Don’t look at me. I am invisible. If you can’t see me, maybe you won’t discover how (insert negative thought here) i really am.

There are things I want. I still choose not to obtain them at the expense of someone else. I genuinely do want to see the people around me succeed and be everything that they are meant to be. I want to see good things happen for them. But, at this moment, I am rejoining the human race. I am declaring that I exist. This is my moment.








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