I actually surpassed this mountainous milestone last year back in middle of December, but I decided against celebrating then. What if the celebration was a gateway into quitting or being less consistent? Okay, I’ve done it. I’ve proved I can do it, now I can quit! “Nope, not me,” I said. I didn’t want that stamina to dissolve. I was in a vulnerable place after all. The holidays were upon us, and I was lazy and overall unmotivated. Plus, covid was still around and barking up every bloody tree. I couldn’t trust myself with any major decision-making. I’m pretty sure I would’ve traded in my valuable possessions for a
fresh loaf of sourdough bit of peace and joy. Life was exhausting to say the very least. I couldn’t risk losing the one thing that I had control of and had been consistent with in the last year. I had to keep going. So, I did.
I never set out to write regularly, much less as militant as I have been (new posts dropping every Wednesday at 8am EST)! I just felt like I needed another outlet during the pandemic; the world felt like it was closing in on us and I needed another way to cope. It was as good a time as any to refresh this blog (even if it was for the umpteenth time).
These posts don’t just represent a glimpse into a life. Each one represents a post that I thought I’d never write, a ripple of self-doubt, and a (sometimes) last minute thrilling sprint to the finish line. A line, at times, difficult to see.
My painful blogging journey in a nutshell:
- I created a WordPress account in early 2015. I posted 8 times that year.
- Then, in middle of 2016 I dusted off the old laptop and posted 4 times to end the year off.
- Then 6 times in 2017. The highlight that year was that we became pregnant with Charlotte.
- In 2018, I apologized to the ether about not writing more. I ended up posting 4 times.
- In 2019, I swore I would start posting regularly. I posted a whopping total of 5 times.
I think most people have a dream that they’re afraid to share, to say aloud. They secretly hope a lucky break or rare opportunity will appear and lead them on their divine path. Perhaps it’s a dream of becoming an actor, a singer or making art for a living. Mine has always been to write. For me, though, the idea of sharing such a dream would mean having a degree of expectation associated with that. And usually with expectation comes the potential for failure. So, my thinking was if I didn’t share it, there was no chance of failing (at least not publicly).
When Charlotte was born, I started a baby journal for her. The first page in that journal was a letter I wrote to her.
SPOILER ALERT: I didn’t keep up with that journal, but this blog is somewhat of a love letter to her. One of the reasons why I have such anxiety around death is because I fear not making a memorable impact in this world, not leaving any type of legacy behind, and being completely forgotten. Having a daughter of my own and being able to raise her has relieved a lot of that fear. But more than that, I also want my daughter to know who I really am; I’m not just her mama (although that’s been the greatest role of my life).
When you’re a child, you see your parents sometimes as infallible beings. You trust that they are people who don’t make mistakes, don’t pursue higher callings other than raising you and your siblings, who march on fearlessly without emotions (worry, doubt, or otherwise). And while I want my daughter to see how strong and determined I am, I also want her to see the sides of me that acknowledge fear, seeks challenges, and gets back up after countless fails. I want my daughter to see all of me: the young person I was before her who grew up with a dream, found purpose, and needed so much to express herself that she started to tell the stories of her life. If my words change no one’s perspective, then at the very least I know it will give my daughter a window into my soul. When she does read it, I hope her take-away will be that her mama was a girl
who loved bread with many dreams: to write, to have a family, and to follow her passions. I hope she realizes that she, too, can do anything she wants as long as it makes her happy.
Have you encountered any hurdles along your journey? How did you overcome them?
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