I Know This Much Is True

My experience at @SarahRobinson's event, Creating Irresistible Presence, over the weekend was so mind blowing that I'm not sure where to begin. This was my first conference ever, and it was a smart choice. I made wonderful new friends, centered myself and realized that this book I want to write-- this giant looming task that's been scaring me shitless-- is already writing itself on this very blog. Who knew? (insert lightbulb flash here)

Moving right along.

I know this much is true:

If I don't write, I'll die.
I am scared.
Scared in general, and scared to write about certain things.
"They" tell me I'm not good enough.
"They" tell me everything has already been written, & written better.
"They" tell me not to bother, because no one will care, and no one will read.
I have to stop listening to them. They don't matter.

I am nauseous. I am going to throw up. I feel the burning bile in the back my throat.
The fear bubbles up inside of me, unfurling and reaching, ready to take over.
But I'm not going to let it. I am standing up. I am tall. I am strong.
I am not a shrinking violet. I will not shrink to fit.

There are stories stirring underneath my skin. Little flutters waiting to be set free in the wind.

My life, all that I choose to share, will be the legacy I leave to those who may be lost.

I am not alone.
I am not alone.
I am not alone.
I'll keep saying it until I believe it.

I just want to be loved.
I just want to be loved.
I just want to be loved.
I'll keep saying, "I am already loved" until I believe it.

I want: If you write it, they will come (a la Kevin Costner in Field of Dreams)
I am not going to beg, plead, bribe and whine at you to read my stuff.
I want you to want to come here. I want you to want me.
And I don't want to feel ashamed in wanting that. I want that to be okay.
I tell myself: I am special. What I have to say is important and significant.

I feel like I give so much love, but am afraid to ask for it in return.
I don't want to have to ask--I just want to feel it, to know it's there.
I felt it at CIP. A still warm, fresh-out-of-the-dryer blanket wrapped around me.
Now I'm home and I don't feel it anymore, but I know it's still there.

My heart is so full of all of you. And so open.
I am making myself vulnerable to you.
I am scared. It's okay to be scared.....just a little bit.

What you see is what you get.
I am me. I am Erin. I have my quirks & faults, but my strengths, too.
I am enough, I do enough, I have "enough-ness" (thank you, @Nicole_Willis).
I am going to stop being so "good" (thank you @Tracilove).

I am a writer.
I am a writer.
I am a writer.

I AM A WRITER, DAMN IT!

What are you thinking right now? Please share your thoughts in the comments.