False Starts and Promises

The book I had in mind to begin this blog, The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron, has been lauded by many of my favorite writers. They say it’s a great way to reignite one’s creative spark. I purchased it in January 2021 with the hope of starting the new year in a writing frenzy. Here we are in September, and it’s still gathering dust on my shelf. It’s next on my list of nonfiction books to read. Really.

It would be poetic to begin my re-entry to writing with a book about cultivating creativity. I love the idea so much, but I keep pushing the book back on my to-read list. I keep finding reasons to push it off. “I’m too entrenched with the boys’ virtual learning.” “The kids are on summer break.” “I don’t know how to blog.” “I’m too depressed.” “I’m too anxious.” “I’m scared.”

I kept waiting until I feel confident to start this blog, which was clearly not happening. So when the kids went back to school, I cobbled together this site so it’d be ready when I finally forced myself to start The Artist’s Way. I figure I can learn as I go. The best way to learn is to do, in my experience.

But then when the opportunity to choose that very specific book for this very specific project arose, I chickened out. I chose another, which I’ll get into with my next post. My version of procrastination, I guess. Because truth be told, I’ll never feel “ready” to put myself out there and share my writing. I’ll never feel sure that anyone else would deem my writing as worthy of investing the time to read.

Anxiety, My Old Frenemy

On my run the other morning, I listened to a podcast episode about anxiety. In it, the hosts and their guests talk about how acknowledging anxiety often quells it. Again, this rings true to me. I realized my fears for this blog are mainly about how others will receive it. But no one can receive my blog unless I put it out there.

I started thinking about why I want to start this project. My main goal is to write, period. Writing helps me sort out my thoughts and feelings. It connects me with others. It’s a part of my identity, a neglected facet since becoming a parent.

Another aim is to break the stigma of talking about mental health. The more we talk about it and acknowledge it, the less it’s considered a weakness. The less alone others feel with their own mental illnesses. How does this relate to books? I don’t have a definitive answer, but I think it has to do with how books give us insight into others’ minds. They provide evidence that we’re not alone. Books teach us so much about the world and each other; they’re invitations to bear witness to another’s experience.

So, here I am. I’m going to jump in while I have the courage and just go for it. I guess this post is akin to the popular selfies people post on social media with the caption, “Feeling cute, might delete later.”