Beginning Where You’re At.

To be honest, I can’t tell you how many times I have started this exact post, and by this exact post I mean, what will be my first blog post entitled “Beginning Where You’re At”. Since the early fall, probably even earlier than that, I have had this tiny seed buried within me, reminding me that writing is something I have always been passionate about, and that I should begin doing it again. This all started in late summer 2022, when, after at least a year or so of not even touching a notebook I finally began journaling once more. For several years I’ve struggled to be consistent with it, but that little action has propelled me into the largest transformation my life has seen thus far. Granted, there were a lot of other influences along the way, but there will be time to write about that another day. 

So, I guess the question has been, “how could one know that this is a passion I should strive toward, yet not begin the pursuit immediately?” 

There are a plethora of probable answers to that question, and because I am finally allowing that small seed to sprout, and force its way through my darkest depths into the light. My first post will explore those answers and discuss the journey I have undergone to finally arrive at this moment. So, where do I even begin? This is exactly where I have gotten buttoned up or derailed in the past. I begin to face this thing within me and so much fear and anxiety leap forth, choking the words and clarity to write them from me, like a noxious weed. Luckily I have begun to learn that those are the feelings of discomfort I must probe into and explore to find the truth. The answers lie beyond and beneath. 

I believe the number one answer to my procrastination is the exact thing I now know I must travel through— FEAR. The fear of failure, of making mistakes (one’s I could not possibly recover from, or at least that's what the little voice in my head tells me), of ruffling feathers, and of disgrace. I mean what will people think of me if I finally speak my mind, freely and authentically? It proved problematic in the past, so it will certainly be a problem again. Let’s also not forget the fear of not being good enough. It doesn’t help that I feel I have always struggled with the English language in general, even though it is my native tongue. I felt especially terrible at grammar, and spelling, with a vocabulary about as rich as the port-o-jon at the State fair. However, I do remember a time when I fearlessly, and sometimes relentlessly, spoke my mind and didn’t care about the structure or correctness of my “articles”. Looking back, I begin to find the wounds, the shame and the lies from my adolescence that had slowly shut me down to this specific expression in my life, or at the least reserved it for my eyes only within the pages of numerous journals. 

Let us go back to 2005 to 2010, a young, angsty teen sits at her computer on Friday nights writing her heart out in bulletin posts on Myspace, or  blog posts on Tumblr. How I wish I still had access to those posts. Unfortunately the logins are lost and I don’t even recall the URL’s to my pages to try and seek them out on the wayback machine. Regardless, I will simply have to recall the feelings I had while writing those posts to bring perspective to the reasons I stopped sharing my writing so publicly. What I can remember is that I wrote about my life mostly, my frustrations, melancholy, depression, and my boredom. I wrote about my pain that derived from all the different relationships and conflicts of middle and high school, often expressing a lot of unchecked anger to those whom I felt hurt me. Sometimes, more often than my mature adult self would like to admit, I talked a lot of shit about people I didn’t like, and who, honestly, most of the time, didn’t deserve it. But what can you do when you are so divided within yourself, that you attach your bad feelings to people associated with the things, and the people who hurt them. 

That outpouring of rage and blatant honesty about my depression led to heated discords between myself and those whom I was writing about (or their friends), and resulted in some equally harsh and outrageous lashings to my psyche and ego. My favorite (and by favorite, I mean the harshest response to something I wrote) came from my high school crush, who I am sure in adulthood is really glad I never took his words so seriously that I acted upon them, or I was never successful in that act(thank the stars). Was that I had no friends, and no one liked me, not even my own brother, so I might as well kill myself, because honestly who would even care if I was gone. 

Anyways, I think that example alone might illustrate one reason, writing and the passion I had for expressing myself through this medium had been smothered and buried deep within me. I’m sure it also didn’t help to have my mother, in response to my sobbing over the most recent bulletin war between myself and the girl who I felt stole my best friend, state that I was a cold heartless bitch who would never have any friends. Then there's being told by my best friend that I was just too depressing to be around. I quickly learned that expressing myself in this way lead to being alone and no one liking me. What better motivation for giving up on something you enjoy doing than hearing that! Right at the peak of wanting acceptance and actually caring what others think of you. 

If all of that wasn’t enough to keep the seed of this passion buried deep within me, procrastinating moving forward on this path, there is the fear and false story that I have never been good enough. How could a high school drop out, and a two time college drop out, be a good enough writer to be successful at it? Somehow I allowed those ideas to trump my excitement and natural talent for stitching even the simplest words together that could resonate with others. It is all a bit hilarious when I look back at how it was during my high school and college days.

In high school, my writing is what saved my diminishing grades. Then during my stint in college through my writing and the other courses I was taking I discovered a new perspective and belief about my intelligence, which was very healing for me. During my last semester I earned a 4.0 GPA, with my highest grade a 104% in, you guessed it, English Composition. Thank god for that teacher, who I honestly must reach out to, for inspiring and encouraging me and celebrating my talent. Unfortunately, I think the events that led to me dropping out confused my young adult heart, and my focus went elsewhere. With this fear of inferiority, came a desire to be in a place that I was not, to be more than I thought I was. I felt I needed to learn more, relearn other things, and be at a level in this process, before I could start sharing my writing with the world. Luckily, “Beginning where you are at” struck a chord with me a few months ago, and reawakened the idea that I can just learn as I go, and I don’t have to have it all figured out from the off. I have come to understand that I don’t have to be healed to help others, but that it can be a part of my own healing process in this, a step within my journey. This isn’t the beginning, or even the end but exactly where I am at. 

Honestly, I could explain away many more excuses, but I think it's probably best to leave you with this parting thought, our fears are merely indicators to the small seeds of things we love that lie buried beneath them. If we can summon our courage to dive head first into those fears, and the patience to decipher what they are really telling us. We will find the fruit of our longing that has never left us. Because despite all of that, the long, arduous journey, here I am, at the rebirth of this passion of mine. I am ready to do the work, all that is required of me, to continue down this path. I now know that regardless of the success I have in matters of the material, what the world may or may not offer me, and opinions of others. This has already been a success, for just having started, and continued success is guaranteed as I persist on this road and become a fuller, more integrated version of myself. Who knows, I just may inspire others to do the same for themselves, and their passions.  

I have to give myself a giant pat on the back for getting to this point, because I alone know the heartbreak and trials I’ve faced. I know all of the work I have had to put in just to get that small sprout buried under the ground to push through the surface. Now that we are here there is no turning back. The roots will grow deeper, my sprout will grow taller, and I look forward to seeing what fruit it bears. Because you are reading this, firstly, I thank you for your interest and support. Secondly, welcome to the ground floor of my passion project. I’m excited for you to be on this journey with me and it will be thrilling to see where this goes and how it grows. Lastly, if this is the only post of mine you ever read, I hope it inspired you to look within yourself, and find those things you once loved so dearly, which may have been buried for any number of reasons, and that you will find the strength within yourself to start your own journey, recover them, and give them new life.

Several Months Later….

It’s honestly surprising just how daunting it can be to truly pursue your passions. I originally wrote this piece back in January, and now here we are, nearly in November. There could be countless reasons for my hesitation—an array of explanations for why I held myself back from the very things I promised I’d tackle back in January. I've faced countless hurdles, roadblocks, and deeply ingrained beliefs that I’ve had to unpack—honestly, I’m still navigating many of them. But here I am, ready to take that that first step. This journey feels like the start of something new, and yes, I might appear (and feel) a bit foolish at first, but perhaps it’s just another turn on the wheel of life. 

Now, though, I’m armed with more tools, greater power, and the courage to chase what truly resonates with me. No matter how wild or ridiculous others might think it is, I’m all in. 

So, let’s embark on this adventure together and see what unfolds—one letter, one word, and one post at a time!