Hopeful Writing

I am leaving for a writer’s workshop first thing in the morning. I am nervous and at the same time, hopeful. I don’t think I’m alone in those feelings. I couldn’t put my finger on it until today. I read over my draft posts and I know I can write. I’m wary of saying this, but I’m not sure how I will be received.

Here’s why: my deepest fear is not being good enough. I’ve spent a lifetime trying to fit in when I didn’t exactly understand how. I think it’s why I’ve been a people pleaser. And why I spent 20 years as an accountant when at heart I was a writer. I have the ability to make myself look like I am doing the same things as everyone else, when inside I feel like I am pretending. It is the way an introvert struggles to survive in a world full of extroverts.

The truth is, if I don’t do all the things I’m most uncomfortable with I’m afraid I won’t get picked. I had no idea that was even a worry until this very moment. I don’t know how to get picked. And I desperately want to be picked. The only way I know how to survive is by learning from the things that help other people get picked. It makes me so tired.

Sometimes I don’t have the energy to try and decipher the code of fitting in. As I listen and watch others who are putting themselves out there bravely in the world, I think I’m not so different from them. When we are pushing beyond our comfort zones into a place of growth, we are meant to feel uncomfortable. After all, we can’t be expected to know what we don’t know. We need to learn from others. And we are all standing still waiting to be brave for the next thing. Maybe, when we are low on energy, it’s because we have succeeded at something hard.

More than once in my life I’ve been told how important it is to use my voice; to sit at the table, raise my hand and speak up. If I had a mantra or if a large group of people crowded around me, we would chant, “Use your voice. Use your voice. Use your voice.” I want to hide away and read my book or dream about my instagram feed. The last thing I want to do is hard things, like use my voice. Or belong. Or get picked.

I hope when I walk into the room, everyone will hear me chanting “Use your voice. Use your voice. Use your voice.” I hope that we all show up with arms locked in solidarity and learn and grow. I hope we can leave our fears and the lies they whisper at the door.   When we go home I hope we do so with a common purpose: to write big hopeful words that sing Glory into the world.

Deep in my heart I believe I was chosen to be a writer. I know my worry of not being received is a lie I’m telling myself to keep my heart protected. Writing in public is scary. It is every bit as tiring to pretend you are not what you were meant to be. For the first time in my life, I am going to show up confidently and sit at the table with other writers, knowing I belong. I will not let my fears ruin this opportunity.  I’m going to a writer’s workshop this week because I’m a writer and there is no other choice than for me to go all in, brave, belonging and picked.

Follow my trip to North Carolina here.