“Write what you’re afraid to write about.” – Cecil Murphey
I never thought I would start a blog. To me blogs are too personal; a diary published for anyone to read.
And I constantly wonder why or how anyone gets the idea that they have something worth while to say on such a public medium, let alone, how do I have anything worth while to say.
Yet here I am, putting my thoughts out into cyber-space and allowing people I know and don’t know to read them. It’s scary. Kind of humbling. And if I were to admit it, I’m conflicted with whether this action is self-focused. So why am I writing a blog?
Even the Pollyannas out there know life isn’t perfect. It’s often painful and leaves us with the question of, “Why!?!” Many times our pain can compound until we are simmering in a self made pot of bitterness. Yet I have found that we have a choice of action when it comes to remaining bitter or enhancing our character. And this action can be manifested in the sharing of our experiences with others; and more specifically, how we share our experiences with others.
We all share experiences and the results of those experiences, regardless of our wishes. Even if we choose to conceal our past, we inevitably betray our inner selves with our outward actions, whether it’s with something obvious or something as minute as our tone of voice.
I’ve come to realize I must challenge myself to not only reveal the lessons I’ve learned, but to talk about them with honesty, and with thankfulness, or at least with as much positivity as I can muster. And admittedly, it’s not always much.
I make lots of mistakes. I’ve been through some rough stuff: loss, repeated disappointment, depression, anxiety… But the reality is, you can choose to let these experiences be hidden ingredients for self-pity stew, or they can become an encouragement for others.
Sometimes you can be encouraging by simply sharing the bare bones of an occurrence that doesn’t have any form of positive climactic solution, instead of keeping all “shameful” hurt shoved out of the sight of others. It’s showing the world, you’re human, and being a human means you’re a mess. And I’ve found it is incredibly healing to oneself to share about the past while actively focusing on any particle of good that can be found.
So here I am. Sharing bits of my life with shaky fingers and an unsure heart. But I’m sharing because I choose to believe life is precious. Because maybe I can share about my mistakes in a way that will validate someone else’s burden, and share my joy in a way that will expound someone’s present joy.
Because how you choose to share your life makes a difference.