I had this whole post all written and sorted in my head this morning while I was in the bathroom. The running water must have been cleansing and refreshing for my creative self as well. Of course now that I have time to sit down and actually write it do you think I can remember how it all went?
Pieces of it are wafting in and out of my senses like a fart in a lettuce strainer… yes, it is a foul state of affairs. I had a killer opening sentence too that I was feeling very smug about and now it’s just absorbed itself back into the alphabet soup that sloshes about in my mind and sometimes spills out to form cohesive sentences. Frustrating much!
In order for me to hit publish on this one and send it live on my blog I’ll have to think of it as a “Blog like nobody is judging what they are reading” challenge, so I’m gunna go with that.
I originally started writing here, just over 12 months now, because I truly believe there is a nugget in every story told. I have found so much strength, validity and clarity in the words of others over many years that I found myself wanting to share my own words hoping they may reach out and touch a bruised part of someone who needed to hear them… maybe add a little more air to their floaties as they struggle to tread their own murky waters.
Trouble is EVERY time I go to hit that scary publish button at the back end of my blog fear and the doubt monster show up and sit on my shoulder nagging away like my very own little heckling peanut gallery from the side stalls.
“Who do you think you are that you may make a difference in someone else’s world by your words?”
“Why would anyone want to read this shite?”
“People are sick of hearing about you banging on about your cancer ride!”
“People are sick of your notifications of another blog post turning up in their feeds!”
“There are so many other bloggers out there doing the same thing so why do you even bother?”
“You aren’t good enough!”
Annoying loud little blighters they are. Now I wish I didn’t give a flying fug about what other people may think of me throwing caution and my words to the wind of the blogosphere, but sadly I do. I try to push through it though… I flick those laughing hecklers off my shoulder, grab hold of that very wobbly finger hovering over the publish button, take a deep breath, steady, and light that baby up. Then I screw up my face hoping no rotten tomatoes come flying back out at me, turn blue from holding my breath and gingerly open one eye to take a peek at what is actually going on.
No rotten tomatoes yet! Just a really silly looking face!
If I was really brave enough to write like nobody was judging what they were reading I would probably be sharing a lot more words like the following passage I wrote a few years ago that I’ve only shared with a good friend. I wasn’t in a good place and I think the words reflect that.
So I’ll sign off now leaving you with images of farts wafting in and out of lettuce strainers, the inside of my mind looking like alphabet soup and me being pelted with virtual rotten tomatoes hurling from my laptop screen… and of course me cringing and squinting as I hit that publish button considering the following passage you are about to read.
Oh, and thanks for reading… without judgement.
“I still feel wrapped in a cloak of emotion that I couldn’t possibly articulate for another to gain insight… a silent, protected and safe barrier lined with stories and words and experiences and journey’s and feelings written in a language only I could ever read. The cloak brings me much comfort for it is my inner beliefs, my inner strengths, my inner core, my bare soul. It is filled with the comforting weight that has been the journey of my life and that warm familiarity gives me solace and courage of invincibility. Ironically that same cloak can bring me such fear and despair for all the same reasons… but the familiarity is as much my saving grace as it is my demise…. my barrier, my armour, my buffer in every duality, in all weather that passes over me.
As I write a shower of rain begins to fall… I feel as if I’m in a different place… I can see myself sitting on a rock bed stretching out into a calm ocean… gentle waves are lapping at the submerged rocks before me lulling me into a peaceful hypnotic state with their continual hushing break … the reflection of the full moon manages to flicker occasionally across the calm waters through the crisp haze of the winter evening… the chill in the air is filling my soul with the scents and tastes that only the dense sea night air can carry… and there I sit, a silhouette against an eerie ocean night sky, wrapped and protected in my cloak of journeys past… exposed to the elements yet protected, distant yet reachable, for that moment in time at peace enveloped in the comfort and despair of familiarity… finding warmth in its joys and embracing the strength and grounding weight woven through from adversity.”
Do you also wish you could write like nobody was judging what they reading?
Ever been told by your olds as a child to “Sit still… you’re like a fart in a lettuce strainer!”