Consider this your nudge

I think I’m writing a book.

I’m writing a book.

I don’t exactly know how this book will shake out because it’s growing and shifting as I fill space with words, and as its pulse strengthens, it unveils itself to me.

It terrifies me to say this out loud, you see, because then you hold me accountable. You begin to form judgments or expectations, and for some reason we allow ourselves to be tied to others’ expectations of us more often than being tied to honoring our fibers.

I don’t write because I think my words are changing the world. I write because my words are changing my world. I wrote my way through my darkest days and will continue to do so from this day forward. Writing heals me. It’s always there. Telling me my truth.

I crouched under the radar for quite some time. Thinking the thoughts, dissecting my confidence, pondering the validity of my efforts internally. I spoke into my shoulder, muffled, about writing being a piece of “what I do” at the tail end of reciting my verbal resume to others because of the unreasonable definition I attached to that title. I allowed myself to accept a superficial definition of success that society often critiques us against and labeled myself less than.

There have been loved ones around me that didn’t exactly embrace or understand this new outlet of mine, my writing. I let myself stew and feel hurt over this until I remembered that I wasn’t writing for them. I am writing for me. I am writing for those who are looking for a voice that echoes their experiences, their struggles, and their celebrations. I was writing back to those who so kindly offered me their words when I was reaching for some to make sense of change and life.

I have had the fortune of chatting life with all sorts of beautiful people from many walks of life in the past couple of years. They have been willing to show me their insides and each interaction has changed me, rounded out my corners a bit, and taught me something about this wild, wild life. The beauty of sweeping up all your dust and crumbles from the life that cracked into a little dustpan and holding it out in front of you for others to see, is the invitation it offers. You show me yours, I’ll show you mine.

Many of these beautiful people, very often women, are holding themselves back. They have a silent dream or wish or idea that they are afraid to breathe life into in fear that this seed will be rejected. Even worse, that feel they may not be worthy. They speak only in safety; if they are fortunate enough to have such a space, and then quickly tuck it back in tightly in the darkness. They pad their desires with humor or passiveness when giving them voice in an effort to protect their dream. They are writers, photographers, stay-at-home-moms, career mom’s, artists, healers, leaders, stylists, runners, and shop owners. They are independent, brave and candid. They just don’t know it yet. They just won’t “own” it yet.

If you are housing a dream, a desire, an idea inside and you fear lacking support, let this be your nod. Consider this the sign you may waiting on. Consider me one person who believes. Belief is important not just in the idea itself, but in your passion and courage to pursue it.

If we are real and speak our truths out of the shadows, we broaden the narrow stereotypes and expectations and definitions that keep us small.

Consider this your nudge.