I’ve always been so hesitant to make my writing public. There are the obvious reasons, like knowing I’m not that great at putting together sentences, and that grammar isn’t my strongest subject, and I tend to overuse commas.
But since having my own children, I’ve decided I’m allowed to be bad at things and that I’m okay with being bad at things. I’m allowed to be a beginner and I don’t have to constantly apologize for it. Watching my children see the world with fresh eyes, attempting every day some new skill they’ve never tested before; standing, walking, running, climbing, jumping, speaking, they are constantly adding new skills and it’s always the case that, at first, they’re really bad at whatever they’re doing. They don’t feel a need to impress us or apologize for not being a master on a first try.
Why do I feel like that? Somewhere along the way my people-pleasing self decided it was safer to not do something than to start and not be great it immediately. I’m allowed to write crappy essays while I try to find my voice and learn what makes great writing great.
But, if I’m being really honest, there are some other reasons I’ve been nervous to share my writing; like, I’ve been journaling a long time and, when I go back and read those journals, I can be quite embarrassed of the person I’ve been.
Writing down who you are in a moment, or what you’re really thinking, takes a bit of confidence; because it’s very likely that you’re not going to be that same person in a few years. And what if you’re embarrassed of the things you thought or said? And what if you shared those things with anybody who would read (or listen to) them?
I’ve been afraid of being thought of as a hypocrite for thinking something at one time, and in the future having an opposing view. It’s taking me time, but I am getting to the place where I’m not afraid that anymore.
I’m becoming OK with putting what I think out there, even though what I think may change in the future. I’m not letting fear dictate my behaviors. And I’m not editing myself to be the version of me I think anyone expects or desires.
Late one evening, Matthias and I snuggled together, enjoying a late night conversation in the darkness of our room. These are some of my favorite moments, and this particular evening he said something that has altered my perspective greatly: “I'm proud of you, Madeleine. You have a remarkable willingness to change and ability to change, more than anyone I've ever known.”
Those words hung in the air, mingling with the stillness of the night. In that brief instant, I felt a surge of emotions, a mixture of humility and gratitude.
Change… changing… isn’t a bad thing.
It took his soft and loving words to make me realize it’s not my character defect to not be the same person I was several years ago, but a benefit of being willing to change. And having any of it represented in my writing is a benchmark of that growth, not a blemish on my history to embarrass me.
Writing has compelled me to expose aspects of myself that I would rather keep hidden. At times, I find myself yearning to be a flawless embodiment of beauty and love, even though the reality is that I am likely messier on the inside than most. But I love the idea of owning my story, especially after hearing these words from Brene Brown:
“Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it. Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy—the experiences that make us the most vulnerable. Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.”
Writing and sharing it is my way of owning my thoughts, opinions, and stories. And sharing my vulnerabilities - like negative thinking patterns, and choosing to be sober - have both scared me and made me find a place I belong.
I’m thankful for that sense of being known, faults and all, and belonging anyway.