Tracy’s almost post.
"Just write about Tracy."
"I’m trying, but I can't."
"Why not? She made you feel witnessed, special. Valued.”
“That's a beautiful story."
"I know. But I’ve been writing for hours and nothing's coming."
"So write that."
"Write what?"
"Write that nothing's coming."
I wanted to tell you the story about Tracy. A woman who came to my door a handful of weeks ago selling charity subscriptions. This chance meeting on a Monday afternoon left me feeling something totally unexpected - witnessed, seen, heard, valued and powerful. It’s a story about an incredible human and a meaningful connection that moved and inspired me.
But here’s the uncut and raw truth I don’t want you to know. I feel totally uninspired, jaded, tired and blocked. I wanted this piece - 009/365 - to be as special as the interaction I had with Tracy, but for the first time in nine days of daily writing, I’m over it. I'm not feeling it. It just isn't ready, willing or able to come out or maybe I’ve just forgotten or lost the gift to write.
Either way, I'm going to honour this moment and deal with all the feelings and emotions it brings.
It's 11:43pm and I’ve spent over three hours writing rubbish. All I wanted to do was to write something powerful, impactful and of meaning. Worthy of me and the readers still with me on this journey. But if I've learnt anything worth sharing right now it's to remember and remind myself that I am human. First and foremost. And that being a real human, in real time, means sharing my disappointment and delight, my struggle as well as success, my averageness and mediocrity along with my ascendance and meteoric rise.
This feels limp and lame and not good enough to publish, which is exactly why I will unenthusiastically allow the full experience in and through. I know that's ego talking, righteousness and bravado. And contrary to the intent and purpose of what this 365-day challenge is about. But it's hard for me to admit that I don't have it tonight. That I'm distracted, unfocused, fried and burnt out.
I was reflecting earlier that I don't want my writing to be so deep, heavy, self-absorbed and intense. I’ve felt these things and “too much” my entire life. I’ve worked so hard to achieve a balance between levity and gravity and embrace every style and shade of beige and grey. I live so much of my life today in multicolour, joy, childlikeness and lightness but I worry others don’t, can’t or won’t be able to see it. Sound familiar? There’s that people pleasing and approval seeking coming for an unannounced and unwelcomed visit once again…
You see, starting a business, growing an audience, promoting myself as my very own brand, is legitimately challenging. It brings a consistent stream of struggle, worry, confusion, fear, vulnerability and heavy heartedness. But equally know, I’ve never felt in my entire life so alive, expansive, grounded and free.
Right now, this is who I am.
“All parts are welcome here, even the imperfect ones.” I believe I wrote that recently. Maybe that's all there is left tonight to learn, share and not even have to understand.
Rest assured, Tracy will get her story another day. But tonight, I discovered something this human never before figured out - that the writing itself is the reward, not the world’s response to it.
H2BH 009/365
