When my search for perfection hindered growth

This past weekend my husband griped at me for not writing on the blog lately, or anywhere else for that matter. I slinked down in the couch where I was sitting when he gave me the "you're being lazy and not using the gifts you've been given" speech. I haven't really looked at writing as a "gift" so much as a release of the build up of stuff that runs through my head. I definitely would not say I'm "gifted" with the written word in any way, shape, or form. I just like to talk...... a lot.

I have always believed writing is something people with talent do. People like Ernest Hemingway, Mark Twain, Jane Austen, and Maya Angelou are writers. Not me. Writers are people who know grammar and have a gift for making words become movies in our heads. I wish I had that gift, and because I realized I didn't have that gift, I let that stop me from writing.

My perspective towards my writing has been that I just spew whatever is in my head onto the computer, cross my fingers, and hope it makes sense to people who read it. When looking at writing from this perspective, all I could do was fail, so why continue? 

It wasn't until I was talking to my Dad about some other hobbies I enjoy, and that I thoroughly stink at, that I realized lots of people do things for fun with no expectation of perfection. Can you believe people just do stuff for fun and however it turns out, is how it turns out? It was pretty heavy stuff realizing people are happy with their efforts because it was their outlet and they enjoyed their journey toward reaching completion, no matter the finished product.

It was then I realized: writing is my release. Some people play golf, work on cars, garden, participate in marathons, and lots of other things. For me, I write. Not eloquently, or even with proper grammar, but it is something I do which I can actually complete.

When the internet started exploding in 2000, writing emails to family and friends gave me a way to "talk" to them from another state, without incurring an exorbitant phone bill (that was back when telephone companies charged for long-distance phone calls by the minute). Writing emails gave me a way of relating my day-to-day experiences in a new state with all of the differences in culture.

On Sunday after I still had my fanny firmly planted on the sofa, my husband set his foot down and told me to get in my office to start writing or there would be no Super Bowl snacks for me. And he meant it. What?! No layered bean dip for me?! Well, that threat finally got me up off the sofa!

There I sat at my computer, wondering: Why bother? Is anyone really going to read this? 

It was then that it dawned on me: Why does it matter if anyone reads it or not? This is my release, my outlet. If I write for other people, I will never please anyone - least of all myself. I also realized if I don't write for me, I will continue to be firmly entrenched on the sofa, feeling overwhelmed and unfulfilled.

So, 2017 will be the year which will see me making a few changes within myself. I've spent the past 2 years taking care of major medical issues with my family, which I gladly did, however, it is time for me to take care of myself as well. You can't give to, or care for, others if you're using everything up within you, and not nourishing and replenishing your soul. Writing is my soul food and it is time to nourish me.

Happy 2017! The redhead is back! It may be a wild and bumpy ride with a few sharp curves, but it's time. As a matter of fact, it's beyond time. Let's do this! 

PS - I started the new me by changing up the color of the blog. I like blue. It's calming and peaceful. What do you think?

Christie Bielss