Today I start a blog, enough is enough. I have been thinking about, attempting, and then thinking a whole lot more about writing; something, anything really, a journal, a blog, a website, a book, a course, Blah, blah. But it just never sticks. I dislike my writing, I dislike my voice, hearing my voice played back to me is pure torture, and I guess my writing voice is kinda the same.
Two weeks into January and find myself still reflecting on 2017. Which for me, felt about five months shorter than 2016. None the less, I’m looking back. Not getting stuck there but connecting the dots. Noticing the lessons and evaluating whether or not I have learned and moved forward or have I numbed out and regressed. Let’s just say, I’m a work in progress.
So when my brain landed on the topic of writing I paused. I got quiet and tried to listen to the story that would come up, I would finally see the deep rooted reason to why I have been held back from writing all these years. One word came up. ChickenSHIT. Seriously. I was kinda pissed. Been living the last three years on my yoga mat, becoming more present and self-aware. Learning about my behaviours and triggers, learning to breath and let be. Yet, I was still letting fear get the best of me.
I am committed to writing at least twice a week. I won’t worry what my voice sounds like; the topics will vary and its style will change - I am committed.
For now, the promise to myself is to write.