I just spent $14 on a breakfast sandwich and a coffee drink that I wasn’t sure I would even like, so I better write something today.
My friend Brittany is sitting across from me as we try-out our first Saturday morning writing-sesh at the cutest little coffee shop you ever did see. I don’t often drink coffee, so I’m definitely kind of a poser here…but this Chai latte that I ordered on a whim is definitely hitting the spot. Now to see if it’s infused with any writing powers.
**Breakfast sandwich arrives. Takes break after writing for 2 min. Everyone rolls eyes.**
Verdict. Breakfast sandwich is SO worth the break and the $14. I started out by saying I was only going to eat half and semi-offering the other half to Brittany, but I ate the whole thing. The whole, entire thing. So sorry Brittany.
The truth is that I write all the time in my head. I’ve said that on here before, haven’t I? However, it is incredibly difficult for me to be disciplined enough to sit down and get the words out of my head. Truly though, the thought of using my voice through writing won’t stop nagging me, its kind of haunting me actually. And the problem is I can’t decide if I should or not. Like why would any of my thoughts matter? There are already so many writers, blogging truth and humor or authoring the books I love to read. Am I just trying to emulate the people I admire and love to learn from or is this a real thing? Is this one of my gifts?
I truly do not know. I swing back and forth between thinking it may be my gift, my “calling” and immediately feeling full of myself & foolish, terrified & inadequate for thinking that at all.
I’m waiting on an answer from God. A true, “this is what I created you to do and I am waiting on you do just do it” but I can’t seem to figure out the who, what, when, where, why or how.
Who? Who is this brave and bold person that notices, reflects, and shares? That is disciplined and confident and knows that her voice has something to offer the world that already seems like such a crowded space of noise and opinions? Is this person really living inside of me?
What? What is it that I need to share? What of mine is real, true, vulnerable, and necessary to offer to others? What is my truth? My love offering to the world?
When? When do I have the time, energy, and brainpower to sit down and do this? When during the day is there space for this? Surely not when I’m watching Netflix.
Where? Where is the writing going to get done? With pen and paper? Typing in a word document? Long captions on Instagram that few will take the time to read? Longer blog posts that even fewer people will read? – Will I write in a coffee shop on Saturday mornings where the wifi password is “pourover” – a coffee reference I absolutely don’t understand? …Will I finally turn off the TV at home and write at the yellow table in the kitchen?
How? How do I summon up the courage to share my heart with the world…especially as an introverted people-pleasing perfectionist who prefers the safety of naps and Netflix than the vulnerability that comes with living out loud? How do I accept the imperfection of this process and move forward despite the fear of falling flat on my face and embarrassing myself?
And Why? Why, when I close my eyes and imagine the “if I could do anything,” am I doing just this, writing? – Why do I feel the pull, the need, the desire to write and share words with others? Is this the dumbest thing ever? Am I after some sort of personal glory or is this the thing I was meant to pursue with the one life I’ve been given? Why this and why me?
This is me today, a girl posing in a coffee shop full of questions (including, what the heck is pourover?) and a nagging that won’t leave me alone.
The perfectionist in me wants the answers to these questions before moving, before beginning, before, before, before. She wants everything wrapped up with a bow and in its place so that she knows she can move forward like a boss from the start…without mistakes and missteps, and without the growth process that comes with starting (or re-starting) something new.
This perfectionist me, she’s often in the driver’s seat which is why we usually just sit parked in the driveway.
Today though, I dragged us both to the coffee shop, broken out brow-line, parking anxiety, dying laptop and all, to meet Brittany and to finally do something with the words on the inside.
This is Day 1.