I began writing a blog about my family about ten years ago. It was a fun little blog where I would write little stories and share pictures of my sweet little kids and what we were up to.
I quit because my camera broke and I didn’t think there was any value to the parts I had written, I thought the words were just filling space, so when I couldn’t add the photos the blog died.
There was always a part of me that wished I had carried on with it, the kids still go back and read the posts and look at the pictures occasionally.
Back then I didn’t understand the power of story, of expression, and of words… and I certainly didn’t value what I had to say, or my contribution, as important. Sometimes when I look back at my old self and remember how she felt, I just want to hug her and never let go.
4 years ago the idea of starting another blog was rumbling through my mind. I felt like I should keep track of all of the craziness in my life, feeling like it was a story worthy of an Oscar winning film. I knew things were happening that I could never make up on my own, but I also knew I wouldn’t be able to write it from the proper emotional space, I was angry and bitter and scared… so I didn’t do it.
The itch to write kept nagging at me so quietly I didn’t recognize it as a call. It seemed like something that hung in the atmosphere as an option, not even as a possibility, but the tension started building when I lost my voice as a mom to my oldest son. He had gone to live with his dad and our relationship disintegrated.
There was so much I wanted to explain to him about life, about love, about choices, about who I was and how I think…but the lines of communication were down.
It took a year and a half of wishing things would get better, of hoping the dust would settle, and then periods of crying myself to sleep when time and time again they got worse instead of better.
Then one day I decided to start writing a new blog.
One where I could tell all of the stories I wanted to tell about who I was and who I am now, teach all of the lessons about life, about love, and about choices with my voice… and hope that one day he would be interested in who his mom was again.
I had to show up and be as much of myself as I could in order to leave the footprints and the breadcrumbs in case he ever decided to follow them.
Showing up was the hardest part. There have been so many days I have battled who I was, and who I am, and who I want to be.
I have had days where I’m completely uninterested in showing up, days I’m sick and I just want to stay in bed, other days when I don’t have anything to say, and other days I’ve fallen back into the trap of not feeling like what I’m contributing is important.
But I made a promise to myself that I would show up anyway and so I do.
The lessons have been huge and plentiful through this journey so far, but here is a small part of what I’ve learned.
I have something valuable to say after all, and when I started to find the right people in my life (all of you), my words were accepted, appreciated, and important (and so are everyone’s! So please share your stories in your voice).
I love to write and share stories and life lessons, but the part that lights me up and makes my heart burst is when I hear back from you and you share with me how what I wrote has affected you, changed you, or helped you… helping others has become my absolute most favourite part.
I needed to have a reason bigger than myself to start and to show up on the hard days, but I also had to do it for my own reasons or my voice wouldn’t come through. I couldn’t do it for a payoff, only as a hope and prayer.
The darkest most painful moments in life push us into the most beautiful new beginnings and we don’t even recognize it.
Nobody told me if this would work, nobody reassured me, and mostly nobody even knew what I was doing or why.. it was a labour of love, as all of the best things in life are, and that has been rewarding.
I thought I was doing it for one reason, but serendipitously so many other reasons (all of you) have become equally as important to me. I show up because you show up. Thank you for becoming my reasons.
I hope that you listen to the nagging in the back of your mind when you hear it. I do believe we always know the thing we should do, we just spend more time talking ourselves out of it than listening to it.
So you know that thing that you could share with the world? That idea, that gift, that story that pops up? Don’t keep it to yourself… you don’t know who’s out there waiting for you to bring it to their world, and you can’t imagine how many ways you will be blessed by it once you do.
I promise you, it will be worth it.