The Call to Write

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I have a lot to say, and...honestly, that scares me.

I admit, writing this first blog post brings up a lot of Fear for me. But I'm here, writing anyway. I could say I'm here writing because I'm brave, but the truth is, I'm here writing because I've no strength left to push against the Call to Write. I've pushed against it for a very, very long time. I've exhausted myself in the game of procrastination, a game that I knew in my heart I'd never win.

And truthfully...I didn't want to win that game.

Apparently exhaustion is my threshold for surrender. I've been at it for far too long, kind of like a boxer, bruised, battered and soaked in my own blood, leaning on my opponent, completely worn down, yet not willing to admit that it's time to surrender.

But it's time to move on. I know it comes down to a Fear of judgement that I've allowed to keep me from sharing my heart through writing for all of these years. Essentially it's a Fear-based belief that many of us share: I am not enough. I've wasted a lot of time living in Fear. But over the past year and a half of living in a way that was all about following my heart and trusting my enough-ness, a lot has changed in how I relate to Fear.

I no longer try to get rid of Fear. I know it's here for a reason. But how I negotiate with Fear is a whole new story. I've chosen to remove Fear from the driver's seat of my life, and while it's still allowed to be along for the ride, butting in to everyday life in it's hallmark jittery, constantly on-alert way (which is Fear's job, to alert me to possible danger), it's no longer allowed to make any decisions.

At this point, it really doesn't matter what judgements do or don't come my way because I'm done letting Fear keep me in the game of fighting the Call to Write. My gloves are off and my fingers are on the keyboard. I surrender. I'm letting go.

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There is no turning back.

Do you know that feeling, the one that if you step onto a certain path, that there'll be no turning back? That once you've made a commitment to that path, the very nature of this one decision will consume you in a way that'll require you to lean in all the way?

Writing feels like this to me. Yes, Fear is along for the ride, but the feeling of relief easily outweighs it. I'm moving forward.

When I say writing, I'm not referring to the kind of writing I've done in the past, like copywriting, putting together workshop handouts or writing course manuals. And I'm not referring to those blogs I started and stopped a thousand and one times (both literally and in my mind). I'm talking about writing in my authentic voice. Writing my own story. Opening up and giving my soul the reins of the keyboard to bring forward what it will.

This feels...gigantic. Enormous. Massive. Way bigger than anything I've ever explored. It feels like being all the way grown up, and simultaneously, a newborn. It's exciting, and confusing. I won't know what these feelings are about, or be able to satisfy this un-hush-able voice within unless I sit down on a regular basis and explore it.

So, here I am. This is me, starting. I'm taking the first step. I'm writing here, with you, as a way to surrender to the Call to Write that's been gnawing at me for most of my life.

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Let Go and Lean In

My current motto is let go and lean in. It's the start of a grand new adventure in expressing myself fully. And, you know, adventures like this are meant to be taken together. That's why I'm (finally) writing in a place where I can invite you in on the unfolding of my journey, rather than tucking it away in a file on my computer, which is what Fear would rather I do. Good thing Fear isn't allowed to make the decisions anymore.

I can feel it. I know that this is no time to hide. This is a time to let go and lean in.

Thank you for being here. Feel free to comment, reflect, and share. I’m listening. I love you.