Beginnings

Sometimes, the beginning of something great comes disguised as an end. Sometimes, something painful gives you the motivation you need to try harder.

I started the current incarnation of my blog a year ago. Exactly one year ago today, it went live at it's current URL. It was a fun thing for me to do to document my life parenting a rambunctious 2 year old. It gave me an outlet for my thoughts, a safe place for my words to live.

I never really had much confidence in what I wrote, I just enjoyed the process. Seeing the words on the screen or page felt cathartic. Sharing on such a public forum was nerve wracking. What would people think? Would they like what I had to say, would they like me?

Over time a small group of followers assembled. Mostly family, there was also a friend or two who would regularly read my work. They liked it. They liked me. My confidence grew with every word of encouragement.

Then, I was offered a column in our local paper. I would get paid to write. I was beyond excited but even more nervous. I still felt new. I felt like I had no idea what I was doing. I decided to set aside my fears and go for it. At worse, it wouldn't work out and I would resign. At best, I would be a paid writer.

Excited and needing to share some nervous thoughts I shared the news with my friends and family. Everyone was supportive and encouraging. Everyone but the one person I wanted to be, a fellow writer and friend that I looked up to.

The lack of support led to the demise of our friendship. I immediately blamed myself and assumed my writing was no good. That I had made a terrible decision and shouldn't have taken the position. I doubted every word. If someone I thought to be a great writer couldn't support me, how was the general public supposed to?

My first deadline came and I went for it. I had committed to this adventure and didn't want to disappoint those who were supporting me. Meanwhile, my blog posts dwindled. My personal writing came to a halt. I allowed this blame and self doubt to derail me. I lost my footing and took some time to figure things out.

What I didn't know was that this dark time, this struggle, was the beginning of something. Slowly the support grew. Strangers stopped me in the grocery store to tell me how much they loved my column. I started to post on my blog again. My readership doubled the first month I was back. The number of people following my blog on social media tripled in a month. My confidence grew.

Something shifted. I no longer was writing to try to fit in with someone I looked up to. I was writing for me again. I wasn't trying to impress anyone, I was sitting down and challenging myself to be the best writer I could be. I had gone back to where I started. I was doing this because I loved it.

I have produced some of the best work of my life in the past few months. It feels amazing to say that. It feels incredible to have confidence in what I do. In what I love. I have made some of the best friends I could ever ask for and I have connected with some of the most sincere and incredible people. All because of a new beginning. All because of a beginning disguised as an end.