Yesterday morning, I received the following email from Luminita Saviuc, the founder of the blog Purpose Fairy:
http://www.purposefairy.com/67021/3-magic-words-you-should-say-today/
I clicked on the embedded link, and there was MY article along with my accompanying short bio and picture.
Several weeks ago, I had set an intention that I would get an article published with Purpose Fairy, which is one of my most favorite blogs to read. My friend Tracie had suggested that I submit an article. I thought that was a great idea.
Except that I had no article to submit.
And no idea what I would write about.
I've been a writer for years, and most of my writing has been in either fiction or poetry. I've always loved telling stories. Even as a young child I wrote stories about my first bike or the squirrels in the backyard or science fiction yarns of an Earth with no ozone layer. I wrote for the pleasure of it. There was something so gratifying about creating a universe out of words.
During childhood I shared my stories with everyone because I felt like my stories were meant to be shared with other people. I felt a great zest and happiness in jotting things down and giving them to people as presents. It was like giving out candy, and I was just confident that people would appreciate them as I much as I did.
But over time that confidence disappeared. While I still loved writing, I became more and more reluctant to share my work. The joy of sharing had disappeared for a variety of reasons, one of which was, "What if it isn't good enough?" Judgment had replaced joy. The act of sharing such a large part of myself because fraught by anguish and anxiety because I was thinking, "What if no one likes it?"--ergo "What if no one likes ME?"
Then came a time I stopped writing for awhile. In all honesty, I probably needed that time. Though a part of me thought that maybe I wouldn't come back to writing at all. I had become estranged from writing because it had become too charged. I felt too vulnerable, too consumed by criticism.
It was only about four years ago that I started really writing again, and the catalyst was the end of my marriage, which also coincided with the birth of my son. The stress sometimes felt beyond endurance. Writing once again became my respite, something reliable in providing comfort and solace as I went through one of the most difficult periods of my life. It was the beginning of accountability as well as a time to find myself again.
I started writing again in workshops where other people could read my work. This was a huge thing for me, being able to trust others to give feedback on my work, but I was able to feel safe again. I was able to start seeing that the stories I wanted to tell mattered. Especially my own story with its accompanying feelings of shame, heartache, disappointment, and grief. Not only could I tell my story but love my story. I could send love to all the parts of my life that needed healing.
When I started writing the article that eventually appeared in Purpose Fairy, all I knew is that I wanted to share something hopeful about my life. I had just turned 40 years old. Life has had more than its fair share of ups and downs, and it's still not quite where I want it to be. But despite life still being as unpredictable as ever, I felt different from what I had been. And the difference was feeling, "I am enough." I knew then that was what I would write about.
Since my article has appeared in Purpose Fairy a little more than 24 hours ago, hundreds of people have now read it. And liked what I wrote. Even identified with it. There was nothing more satisfying and rewarding than reading comments that said, "Thank you for writing this. I feel like this is my story too."
I read a quote by Kim McManus that applies to the experience of sharing my story so publicly. It says, "Your heartache is someone else's hope. If you can make it through, somebody else is going to make it through. Tell your story."
I have learned that my story is also someone else's story. My story matters. Your story matters. Tell it.