Whenever I write anything that delves beyond my politically correct, socially acceptable, polished, surface level self, I get a little antsy. Actually, I get a lot antsy. My heartbeat quickens, my hands sweat, and my voice becomes shaky as I reread my thoughts turned into words aloud. And then, two somewhat competing ideas pop into my head simultaneously: 1.) I shouldn’t hit publish on this. 2.) These words need to be shared. And since I don’t know which feeling to believe (or perhaps don’t have the instant guts to follow the second), I call in my support team for courage.
I’ll FaceTime my parents, or phone my sister, or request that my husband look through what I’ve written. I’ll ask them, “is that too much, too heavy, too revealing? Do I sound like someone who needs to see an expert more than I need to be sharing my innermost doubts and struggles on the internet?” They assure me my thoughts are valid, and that more often than not, they’re common. They’re just usually not spoken aloud. They have my back even when I can’t seem to have my own. They believe in the power of my words even when I don’t. Continue reading