Four weeks ago I spoke in front of two groups of ladies on the topic of fearless motherhood. I spoke about shame and judgement and how we called to be those that lift each other up as moms and women. It was incredibly well received. I was told the feedback was great and that many women were uplifted and encouraged by my talk. My talk had been the culmination of months of writing on the topic. I was really excited to move forward, continue writing and trying to find more avenues to speak.
Just days after that event, more than one person made a comment
on the grammar and punctuation in a specific Facebook post I had written. All
of a sudden, I was front and center for that judgement I had just spoken about.
Two things happened as a result of that.
One, I cried for close to two full days.
Two, I stopped writing. At all. I am confessing here that I am
immobilized by fear. Fear that I would make another simple (and, I would have
thought, forgivable) mistake and someone would decide I needed another lesson.
Just writing this out is making my heart quicken. Tears are
forming behind my eyes. I have been told I have great composure and every single
time I think about what happened and trying to write again I lose all of my
composure.
And it hurts. It still hurts. I went from being so excited to
hiding in a home improvement project….see, I don’t have TIME to write, there
are walls to paint!...all an excuse. Mostly I am hurt and scared and can’t
figure out how to move past it.
Maybe that is the biggest confession. I am caught up in the
shame. The shame I have been trying to help others to not dish out and I am
having a terrible time rising above it. I am stuck and I don’t like it.
I recently heard the idea that the first step is awareness.
Awareness that something isn’t right, awareness that you are doing something destructive,
awareness that you are on a path that isn’t getting you where you want to be. So,
for a few days I have just been aware. Aware that this pain hurts.
Today I am taking the next step. I am going back to writing…by
writing about not wanting to write anymore, of being afraid of writing. I am moving
forward even as my heart feels anxious. Even as the tears are kind of making me
want to give up.
I wonder why even keep typing? Why put myself out there? Why?
Well, those ladies I spoke to are one reason. I helped them and it felt good. I
like helping women. I think I have valuable things to share. I can’t let shame
stop me from what I believe was a passion put on my heart by God himself. If I
stop, the devil wins. I won’t let that happen.
But I won’t say it feels good today. It doesn’t. I hope writing
does feel good again. I hope that by writing out how I feel about this shame
and judgement I can begin to move past it. That I can move past the fear.
Because I know that the help I was giving others is bigger
than the hurt in my heart. Even if it doesn’t feel that way today.
