I could be wrong. What if I’m wrong? And worse, so much worse, what if they tell me I’m wrong?
I hear these words scream at me as I contemplate writing everything I feel in every moment. They are the words that stop my fingers from pounding out the keys on blog posts that I want to share, but am too afraid. Somewhere along the lines, I began to tell myself that I had to be right to write. I had to know my subject completely and it had to be free from error, even down to the punctuation. Those words I came to believe have stopped me from just telling the story- especially as it happens- for fear that in the future, or even in the present, someone is going to use my words against me. To prove that I was wrong. That I am wrong.
What happened to being wrong? When did it turn into something that was essential for development? When did I suppose that I needed to have the right answers even before the questions came? We all live life in the present. We all make mistakes. I make so many mistakes. I’ve made so many important decisions based on my “gut” emotion or faulty information. That’s life. That’s how we learn and grow. I hope I’m learning. I read what I wrote even a year ago and I roll my eyes at the idiocy. It’s easy to look back. It’s hard to know right now.
That being said, there are some of you who read this nonsense who are light years ahead of me in your development as a human. You roll your eyes at me and how little I understand. Which is so totally fine with me now. I’m learning. I’m not who I was even a year ago, and I don’t expect to be the same person in a year. That’s the magic of growing up. Life would be boring for me if I knew everything from the beginning. It’s the journey.
So I’m going to write what I’m feeling in the present and I assure you, I will be wrong. I might be right. Either way, I’m desperate to get back to why I started this blog in the beginning- to write. To get it out on paper what I’m going through. When nobody read what I wrote, I didn’t give a damn. I want to not give a damn again. Maybe that kind of writing will take me back to not having anyone read, but my bottom line won’t change. I’ll still be the girl who’s just trying to make sense of the complete and utter nonsense that is her life.
I’m going to write.
12 thoughts on “When I don’t write.”
Right there with you. Keep writing please! I don’t care if you are right or wrong. I just want to hear how things are going in your world.
When you’re a writer, writing is just like breathing…you gotta do it. Sometimes it feels like you’re jumping off a cliff, but, Lexi, know we are always there holding your hand and soaring through the air with you!
“A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.”
― Maya Angelou
I think I missed a big something somewhere along the line…But, EFF ‘EM. Haters gonna hate. Keep writing, girl. Write for YOU. It’s YOUR journey.
FWIW, I don’t think there is such a thing as anyone being “ahead” in development as a human. If they truly are/were, they wouldn’t be judging and slinging arrows. Life stops when the lessons stop, IMO. I think your willingness to accept your mistakes as a part of being human and embracing them makes you pretty damned advanced yourself. It’s brave and powerful. Write on!
Bless you, Lexi. About the post you are not taking comments on, no judgement and lots of prayers and hugs coming from Jersey for you.
Not to put any pressure on you, but you unwittingly speak on behalf of the rest of us who are FAR less well-known in the autism/Down sydrome community. Keep tellin’ it like it is–the bad, the worse, and the ugly. Because that’s our reality. There will be critics, but I’ve learned from experience that those critics are people in a deep stage of denial. They believe they’ve reached a point of acceptance that we–“of lesser strength”–have yet to reach. Unbeknownst to them, they haven’t truly reached some sort of “acceptance Nirvana”; they’re fooling themselves AND ONLY THEMSELVES. Because “real life” may be extremely challenging, but it’s better than suffering from the delusion that every diagnosis is a Gift From God, and that the fact that we’re changing the diapers of a 7 year-old or coping with the fact that our 1st grader can’t even call us “mama” is somehow a BLESSING. We know better. Those that claim otherwise are to be pitied.
I think all of us feel fear when we post our poetry or other reflections for others to read, KatieMia. It’s a risk that goes along with being a writer. There are those who will understand, those who don’t but still accept us, and those who just don’t get it. I like to think that, if there is one one person who “gets it” then it’s worth the risk. I’ve communicated.
Hi. This resonates SO much. I can’t even believe how much. So much it hurts. In a good way.
And your other posts from today, too. I hear you, I see you. Much of it I understand. I would love to be along for the journey. Thank you. My daughter has ds and ASD. I spent the early knowing/not knowing months sobbing on my basement floor.
I sucks. Yes, it gets better. But it sucks.
If you are being timid don’t publish it until you are more confident. Share only with your most true friend. Or no one.
But write. And try to publish everything. Eventually.
Because most of us don’t blog at all because of that fear. Many read but never post any comments and others HATE the brave new world of blogging & Facebook (but may adore & post work nonesense all day long on “professional” LinkedIn.
Share instead a note about uncertainty or the frailty of the human spirit. Or how crappy some days are. Or not at all
Write and then go love. Love & write and breathe.
Yes. This is exactly how I feel sometimes. I hold back on just writing, just sharing because I need to get my thoughts out – all for fear that it will be held against me. Because it often has been. I’m glad you put this into words, though.
Yeah, keep writing.
Lexi, I really relate tho this post! I have not written in well over a month. I seem to have a block. Madeline would have been 4 in July and it has been too much. It’s all I really want to write about and it has kept me from writing anything. I just started teaching last week but in the back of my mind I am wondering why I can’t seem to write. I think I am too worried about what other say. Like, isn’t she over that yet? I’m rambling but I hear you.