So today is the last day of the year; the year in which I have been promising myself that I would start this blog.
I decided, last week, that it was going to be my New Years resolution, because, you see, I am so terribly busy that I just haven’t had time to sit down and actually write anything, but, I thought, I will do it in the New Year because that’s a good time to start and I also I paid for this domain name.
Then, yesterday, I started reading Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert and I actually admitted that all the excuses that I make all the time about why I haven’t been able to write, are just that: excuses.
I will always be busy, I work full time and commute for a large proportion of each day. There will always be hundreds of other things on my endless “To Do” lists. So, what was stopping me? The answer, as it often is, was/is (delete as appropriate): fear.
That’s all excuses are. Fear that when I do make time, as I do for other things that are important, like exercise, that actually, I won’t be any good. That although I think I need to write, for my soul, I don’t know if I should. I don’t know if what I write will be any good. I stopped you see. From a tiny little girl, I thought and then wrote stories, exercise books of them and they were, I think, quite good. But I haven’t written stories since I was about fourteen and I haven’t really written anything, beyond essays for school and then university since my early twenties.
Recently, I saw my Naturopath, who is a wonderful person, and I was talking to her about how I feel stressed and quite anxious a lot of the time. She suggested that I go back to doing something that I enjoyed when I was about nine. She told me that she used to enjoy, and was actually pretty good at gymnastics and she decided that she missed it. She’s now in her fifties so she didn’t want to take up gymnastics again but she now goes to Pilates and enjoys being bendy and showing off a little bit in that class. For the longest time I couldn’t think of what it was that I did, and then, like a light bulb moment, I realised it was writing.
I discussed it with a good friend of mine and we promised each other we would start blogs and then I put it off. I was busy, I had so much to do and so little time. It was all fear and fear that this blog will be awful is still very much there, fear that I don’t really have a “theme” in mind, that people will be confused by my complicated thoughts and that, simply, I won’t be able to express myself.
But then I remembered that the only people who are likely to read this blog are my sisters, and they’ll tell me pretty sharpish if I really shouldn’t bother.
So, deep breath, here we are, fear and me.
Happy New Year.