Meanwhile, I am now home with our final baby, little Teresa Joy (Tess). She's wonderful, already 11 weeks old, and I am loving most of the third time Mum gig. But recently the ever present itch to write has become more like the embarrassingly urgent itch of a private rash you need to scratch in a public place. Sorry, bloggers the world over for that description of what blogging is, but there you go. Recently a friend encouraged me to get some output for the crazy levels of input that I have. I love reading, I read like breathing and I burn through books, articles and idea trails that, quite frankly, exhaust my husband's ability to listen.
The problem with writing again is that it feels very vulnerable. I want people to read my writing (duh, otherwise you'd just start a word document, not a blog) but I also DO NOT want anyone to know that I write. I want to write perfectly, regularly, life-changingly and possibly lucratively! I fear the reality will be one post every six months and a readership of .7 people (through accidental search engine generation). But I have recently been reading 'Daring Greatly' by Brene Brown and in it she explains that vulnerability is a necessary and ever-present reality in any creative undertaking. No one starts a creative endeavour without it. Nothing wonderful is invented without the gut wrenching fear of failure or the naked in the middle of the shopping centre feeling of putting yourself out there. I am not a fan of this kind of vulnerability. I like to exceed people's expectations by first lowering their expectations. I like to sneak under the radar. I like to try things I know I can succeed at. I am disarming, the kind of friend who makes you feel better about yourself by sharing my horrible fails. I don't like to stand up and say "Here's something I think I'm good at, wanna see?"
But the thing is, that I think I am good at writing (ugh, hate saying that out loud!) and I think I do want to offer some thoughts into the ether, and the only way I can do that is by being very real. I don't really have a filter, as my husband likes to remind me, and I'm an over-sharer. But I feel that next year is going to be a year of bravery, a year of learning to be vulnerable, and a year of standing up to say something, so I'm figuring this is my practise zone. Come along for the ride.