I thought about doing this a week ago, starting yet another blog, but was thwarted by fear. Again. I thought it would be neat for me to have a blog where, instead of feeling the need to relate the topic to Kaya and our bilingual process, I could write about whatever came to me, about whatever topic hit me in the face. When I went seeking a name last week, however, and popped in a few ideas to checked their availability, I couldn't come up with anything that I liked enough to follow through with the idea. I let that be my excuse to listen to my doubts: Just stick with the blog you have. You have a niche there. You have automatic readers, people who will read it because of their interest in Kaya, in bilingualism, in parenting. If you start another blog, where are you going to get your readers? And what if you don't get any? AND, what will that mean about you, as a person with a blog with no focus? I was clear that no readers and no clear focus would clearly mean something about me. Something bad.
In other words, if they don't come, it wouldn't be because they didn't like my writing. It wouldn't be because they didn't like me. It would be, I told myself with confidence, because they didn't like the topic.
Rejection avoided.
Success.
The reason I write, lately, is because I love the process of breaking down a situation, putting it into words, analyzing the hell out of it to see if it makes sense and flows well, and then hoping to god (Should I capitalize that? Who am I going to offend if I do? If I don't? Should I say Buddha? That feels more appropriate for me, but sounds awfully awkward!) it will somehow make a difference in others' lives because it made a difference in mine.
I recognize, and can openly say now, that I write to make a difference for others. I have at least 40 journals from the past 30 years of my life, where I wrote for me, and only for me. I've hit a point, however, where I find that I love writing for others, recognizing that I love the process so much that writing for others becomes, in a sense, writing for myself.
In the past month, my blog on bilingualism morphed from a focus on my challenges with parenting in my non-native language to an arena where my primary intent was to dig deeper than I've ever dug and expose what's underneath. Beneath the anger, beneath the confusion, beneath the doubt.
Now, I find that I want to write about ALL sorts of things real, many of which have nothing to do with my role as a non-native speaker, or my place as a parent, but instead, everything to do with my existence as a person.
With this blog, I intend to create a space where I can be real, and inspire others through doing so. I'm excited, nervous, curious, and thankful to have been inspired to step around my fear and write from my heart, about whatever comes.
I can hear the thoughts now, very loudly: Now I'm a blogger just like everyone else. I have no focus. I'm writing about whatever. Why are they gonna wanna read what I write? Of course, there are counter thoughts, too, as you know. It's a whole conversation, usually: I do have a focus. Being real. I do have readers. They'll come from my other blog. At least some of them will. Right?
Self-doubt is so powerful, and for that reason, I write here, for you, for me, for the right to be real. Because maybe, just maybe, if I leave room for the possibility that it can be, your life will be a lot different, (better is all relative...) because you read what I wrote.
