So, I publicly launched this blog yesterday. WOW. What a rollercoaster of emotions it’s been! I’m so grateful to everyone who’s supported me through likes, shares, comments, messages… all of it! You guys are the real #1’s.
This is a much more personal post than any of the others I’ve written/probably will write, but I feel like it’s important to share the real, raw, living side of this author. I want to explain the history behind this site and basically my thought process throughout. And why I have the best, most resilient, most supportive husband ever.
I started my first blog in, like, 2008
I was around 12-13. YouTube was beginning to see its first version of YouTubers, but for the most part, blogging was king. One of my sisters (can’t remember who - but I think Jessie?) introduced me to Blogger. If there’s one thing that my sisters are notorious for, it’s starting journals and never finishing them, and also being loudly opinionated. But now, we had access to publicly write out our thoughts?? It was almost too much for my little tween brain to comprehend. I wanted the glory, but I didn’t have the guts. But I liked writing, and I thought, “Well, maybe one day.”
I created blogs, wrote half a post, and then deleted them. Over and over and over. If anyone finds one of my blogs buried under the SEO strata like an online fossil, please let me know! I’m sure one or two escaped my withering torch of deletion. But for the most part, I eliminated any trace of the blog; it reeked of my failure, my banality. And if there is one thing I could never stand, it’s that anyone would think me common.
My life began to significantly change in 2020
Like most people’s. But it wasn’t entirely due to the pandemic. I was pregnant for the second time, and it had taken almost a full year to get there. Unfortunately, I lost the baby at 10 weeks (baby stopped measuring at six). We kept trying immediately after, but the months slipped by with no change. My periods had suddenly dropped from 5-6 days to 2, which is not normal. I googled it again and again, and got nothing. I complained to three different doctors (two OB/Gyns and my general physician), but they didn’t care. I was still within normal textbook bounds, so I was fine, according to them.
I reached a point where I knew something had to change. In life, you get two choices when things aren’t going your way: 1) You can learn to be happy, or 2) You can change. You do not get to complain.
I wasn’t happy, and I knew I never would be if I just kept waiting. I don’t remember the exact sequence of events, but somehow, I found myself speaking with a naturopath over the phone who diagnosed me with blood cell and encapsulated parasites in my body. This diagnosis was further confirmed by two different holistic practitioners. It wasn’t that I couldn’t get pregnant or keep a baby because of some failing on my body’s part. My body was doing its job efficiently, effectively, and responsibly. It was taking care of me in the best way it knew how.
In that moment, I understood how disconnected we are from our bodies and our intuitions
And as women, from our fertility. Much like you don’t appreciate your good health until its gone, most women don’t appreciate their periods, hormones, and fertility until they want a baby. We see all those things as problems to be managed and medicated. I took my birth control like the good, responsible girl I was. I got the HPV vaccine because I was told I should. I did everything my doctor said in order to have a healthy baby, but then my body dug its heels in and said, “No. Something’s not right.”
How can I be ungrateful for that? How can I punish my body for doing its job? There are very large stigmas and taboos surrounding miscarriage and infertility, and I’m about to break one: I don’t regret my miscarriages.
Please don’t misunderstand: I wanted those babies, desperately. I loved them from the moment they became two cells instead of one, and I still love them now, even though they are somewhere I won’t see until I’m gone and I’m with them. I celebrated every moment I held them, even when the symptoms left and I knew it was just me in my body.
Because I cannot regret that they lived, I cannot regret that they died. I struggled with the reason why. People offered their own answers, but I knew, deep down, that I was never going to be directly given the reason things happened the way they did.
I had to find out the reason for myself
So, I looked. I talked. I mourned. I researched. I learned. I posted on Instagram. I shared. I grieved. I held others in their grief, and I held them in their joy. I was with my best friend the moment she found out she was pregnant with her first son; in fact, she tested on one of my pregnancy tests, at my insistence. As time went on, I came to understand that when bad things happen, you need to make sure that they were worth it.
Because I went through what I went through, doors were opened that I never knew existed. I was invited into the halls of grief and loss. I understood what ultimate failure felt like. I could connect with women, men, teens, and kids who felt defined by their struggle; something I could never do before. I had lived a very precious and protected life, which is a beautiful thing. But because of what I experienced, my life was that much more deepened.
Like Penelope’s shroud from the Odyssey, we spend our moments weaving our tapestry. We pick up the pieces from our parents, our families, our genes, our experiences. It is finished when we die. But in the middle of it, we are weaving different strands in. We don’t get to determine all of the pieces we are handed, but we do get to decide how to work them into the grand design. If the tapestry was all only good or bad moments, it would be flat and uninspiring. Some seasons we weave in beautiful golds, light colors, happy times. Other seasons are dark and thick and ugly. If we focus too much on those ugly lines, we begin to believe that our tapestry IS ugly. We need to step back and see where we’ve been, the cycles we’ve been through, and that - eventually - we will end this season and begin the next. We can soften those dark spots by giving them a greater purpose.
PARK - HAND WOVEN TAPESTRY BY PIOTR GRABOWSKI via ArtQuest Gallery
I knew I wanted to share this, and I knew I wanted to write I was learning so much, and the beautiful thing about knowledge: it’s nearly impossible to hold it. It wants to spread like fire. I could feel it burning inside of me. Passion.
Randomly at dinner, Adrienne asked me point-blank what I was going to do with my Instagram. She had always encouraged me to chase my creativity, like her, but I wasn’t her, and couldn’t she see that?? I had no business of trying to make anything out of anything.
A few months later, when I was organizing my basement, I found a graduation letter from my high school English teacher. In it, she had written, “I can’t wait to one day see your face on a book jacket!” That threw me off, almost spiritually. I was 26 and what had I accomplished with my writing? I had designed several websites for others but where was mine? I had to face everyone’s greatest enemy: themselves. Kevin had been pushing me for years to write something But every time he pushed, I balked. I cried. I complained. I sobbed that I wasn’t as smart as everyone seemed to think I was. How vain of me - to think I was such a master bull-💩-er that I had managed to convince everyone around me that I was someone I wasn’t. I was a real headcase.
One night, an ad popped up on Pinterest promoting a woman’s $27 blog course. I bought it on a whim, because it was only $30. Maybe it would be a dud and I could finally give a reason why I wasn’t going to do anything with blogging, ever. Suffice to say… it wasn’t a dud.
Success mindset
Instead of jumping straight to the technical part of writing a blog, she spent a whole unit on success mindset. She explained, “This is the most important module of the entire course. The real work is not in the computer. It’s not at the desk. It’s not at productivity. You may get to a certain level, but you will always revert back to a certain level: whatever is comfortable in your mind.”
She began to talk about self-sabotage, and how you can counteract that. I realized how desperate I was to reframe my mindset. I had been living in embarrassment and shame of pursuing my own talents. I offered all my design, writing, and web design services for free. It was so hard for me to accept payment for anything. I didn’t feel worthy.
My mom always told me words are powerful, and my parents did affirm me throughout my life. But I couldn’t do it for myself. I wrote this on a sticky note and put it on my computer (and yes, it’s still there):
I am worthy of my desires. My desires lead me to my purpose, and my purpose can never be taken from me.
You might not understand how powerful this was for me to say to and about myself, unless you deal with self-sabotage, too. Every moment I felt like quitting, every time I got embarrassed by what I was doing, I looked at that note. I read it over and over. I whispered it out loud (just quiet enough so Kevin wouldn’t hear me over his video game).
I divided a page in my journal in half, and wrote “FALSE NEGATIVE THOUGHTS” on one side and “REALITY” on the other side. Then I recorded every single negative thought I had, and the true reality of things on the other side. I did that for pages. It was work, but it was work on my soul. And it was beautiful.
Eventually, I noticed that the time between my looks at the sticky note grew longer. I needed it a lot yesterday when I went public, though!
You are worthy of your desires
Maybe you are in the exact same position as me, and you want to start a blog. Or maybe it’s a business. Or a book. Or even a family. Maybe the thought of doing something more with your life freaks you out, and when people try to push you, you cry, too. Maybe you don’t understand this at all - in which case, this post isn’t for you and I’m kinda honored you’re still reading it.
I want to encourage you, no matter where you’re at: you are allowed to have desires. You are allowed to chase them. You are allowed to adventure and find your purpose and make mistakes and maybe even fail. You are allowed to pick yourself up and try again. You are allowed to change your mind. You are allowed to feel like an idiot and still do it anyway. Trust me, none of that will kill you. In fact, all of it will probably make you a better person. You are worthy.
“We cannot become what we want by remaining what we are.” -Max De Pree
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