For the past few weeks (months?), I have been struggling to write my blog posts. There are a few reasons for this. First, I have been experiencing some serious writers block. Like I’ll have a great idea for a post, sit down to write it, but then come up with nothing. And with a toddler--time is rarely on my side. Second, I have been feeling really tired (both emotionally and mentally). Third, I feel like I don’t have tons to talk about (or that I want to talk about) these days. And lastly, my good old friend procrastination often shows up, but unlike in the past, I don’t always perform as well under that pressure.However, despite all of that, the fact that I hate quitting things that I’ve decided to start, and the fact that I have made this “journey” so public, I’ve kept on going….
But, honestly speaking, one of my biggest issues was that I was slowly losing track of my “why”.
The original purpose of my blog was to share my/our experience, raise awareness of cranio, motherhood/parenthood, and women issues. Of course, to raise awareness I needed to be out there promoting myself on all sorts of social media platforms. Depending on the likes/shares/follows/subscribes of my family, friends, community, and even complete strangers to gain visibility.
Little by little, I started to focus more on my “how” instead of my “why”.
My views, my likes and my shares, became my measurement of how well I was doing. I mean, it was the only measurement I had… right?
Since the things I write are so personal (to me anyway), I felt (and often feel) like the lack of social media and online feedback is personal. It isn’t a reflection of whether people actually came across it or not on their feed due to some random algorithm, but it is really a reflection of how they feel about me, how much they care about my story. And THAT hurts. That discourages me more than anything else. My logical brain knows that this isn’t true—but my emotional brain often runs wild on its own tangents.
I shared a less articulated version of this with my husband one night as I checked my views. He told me not to think that way and to keep doing my thing – and encouraged me to continue. The next morning, he came with a full-on affirmation (love him for this!). He reminded me of the purpose of the blog, my reason for writing, how it made ME feel to share and how much it meant to us when we came across other blogs during our pre-surgery days. He reminded me that I wasn’t likely to know all the ways my stories will influence people, in the same way I am influenced and moved by countless stories and posts online that I have read, but to no knowledge of the authors, who are typically strangers that I will never cross paths with. He reminded me of the difference sharing a story can make. He reminded me of my “why”.
Throughout that week, people randomly told me that they were looking forward to my post, or that they were reading along, or that something resonated with them—it was sort of freaky, but it was enough to encourage me to move forward with my writing.
I’m not perfect. I can’t pretend that these affirmations changed everything for me. There are still days when I am discouraged and days I want to just end what I am doing prematurely. There are days that I wonder: “what am I doing wrong?”, “what makes what these other bloggers are doing so special?”, “why does my network not seem to support me?”.
I’m not beyond or above petty thoughts. BUT I do have to remind myself of my “why”. The families and the people who do read. Some share their feedback, but the majority of those who read do not. I have to remind myself of the way I breathe a bit better after I post. I remind myself that very little things in life, like many amazing entrepreneurs, CEOs, athletes, artists and leaders would tell you, ever come easy. Honestly speaking, I don’t know whoever gave me the false idea that they do—but I am glad that I have people who push me to keep going when it is easier to give up. I hope you do too… Thanks to them, I’ll be here a little while longer.
“He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche