I’ve been absolutely paralyzed for the past few weeks. I have not been able to put pen to paper, or rather finger to keyboard, on the two books I’ve started and not completed. It was much easier to do errands, go grocery shopping, do laundry (my favorite!), or just find things to do so that I would not have to face the ominous keyboard and blank screen.
I did not know why I was doing this of course, but after a potentially tense conversation with my husband about absolutely NOTHING (you know, when you get really passionate about innocuous things like toothpaste), I realized what was really bothering me. I was scared. I was feeling vulnerable. My default positions of “Who am I to be writing a novel?”, “Who would want to read my poetry?”, “I’m not good enough…” were clouding out any form of creativity. I truly was my own worst enemy!
I had let the other voices I recently heard and and come to love and believe as truth, become silent. The voices like Charlayne Hunter Gault who said of the teenagers who did sit-ins during the the civil rights movement, they looked deep inside themselves and discovered something they did not know they had, COURAGE. Like Nelson Mandela who believed we all have this GREATNESS within us, and we should let it BLOOM! Like Eric Butterworth saying that “man/woman is a spiritual being with INFINITE POSSIBILITIES within him/herself.” And Brene Brown who says “Courage is borne out of VULNERABILITY, not strength.’ And then “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”
My self worth is not caught up in what I write or produce or create. I want to live vulnerably, and be uncomfortable with this experiment. Without guarantees or promises, just the belief in who I am.
Let’s live more vulnerably! Let’s take the risks! Perhaps we will discover something inside of us, we never even knew we had but lay there untouched, undiscovered, unactivated.