The Duality of My Restated Intention

A friend of mine called me yesterday to tell me that she'd just been crying for 20 minutes after reading what I wrote about my mom.

Wow.

I felt overwhelmed with surprise that what I wrote could affect someone so deeply.
I also felt incredibly excited: what I wrote affected someone deeply!

Talk about dreams come true.

Apparently, because of my overwhelming sense of fear in starting this new blog, my underlying intent was lost in my initial post, she implied. Naturally, my goal was to be real--you surely sensed my hesitation in putting myself out there if you read that post. But my other goal was to state my intention, my dream as a writer, which despite my attempts, may not have occurred.

I'd like to do it again.
This time, however, with confidence that my current state of mind will send a different message than it may have before.

I love to write. It's like a puzzle for me, finding a way, a number of ways, to put words together that sound good and allow others to understand what I'm hoping to deliver. So, in a sense, I write for me, for the process, for the stimulation of my mind.

But now, after many years of writing solely for me, in journal upon journal, I want to write to make a difference for others. I want to share things in my life that I believe, in some way, will allow others to live the life they want to live. I want to express my feelings in a way that will inspire others to do the same, to live from what's real, yet sometimes really scary.

My dream is for my writing to be published so that others can find enjoyment and inspiration from what I write. And I say this here and now because because I've seen the power, in the last month in particular, in standing for what I want and sharing it with others.

But here's my challenge: if my goal is to write to inspire, to make a difference in others' lives in even some small way, then how do I remain true to who I am, if I am, in some way, basing the realization of my dream on external responses?

Suddenly, in the past month, it has become increasingly important for me to live my life without constantly being hung up on the fear of what others will think. Naturally, I always pretended that I didn't "care what others think," because to let on as such would appear weak. And weak doesn't look good. In fact, one regret that I have about my relationship with my mom is that I was always riding her about her incessant need to please others. "Quit worrying so much about what everyone else thinks," I'd tell her, in my most impatient of tones. I so wanted her to be free of that fear, free from the concern that she might let others down in some way, that she might not be good enough, smart enough, whatever enough.

It was so easy for me to point the finger, because the tendency I saw in her was the very one that I didn't like to see in myself. And didn't. I was aloof, pretended I didn't care, and most people believed me. Especially those on the 'outside'.

When I've told this to friends, in fact, they've told me it's hard to believe. It seems like I've got it all together. And it's true, sort of. I've been a master of keeping it together, pretending everything is fine, pretending that I don't care what others think...when really, it was everything to me.

It's this crazy dualism:
I don't want to live my life driven by the fear of what others think about me.
Yet...
My life is my relationships. They are everything to me. Without them, I have no life.

Right?
What is our life, really, if it's not the web of relationships we have with others?

So, I find myself questioning lately how to be true to myself, to live for me and what matters to me, yet simultaneously value the life, the relationships that I have. If I DON'T care about what others think, then who will I have? Is that my fear talking?

And in relationship to this blog...how do I write for others, and still be at peace when I have no idea how my thoughts are landing on 95% of my readers? Is that the incessant internal battle of confident writers across the world?

Geoff and I mused over this idea last night on our Christmas tree adventure.
Is it through humility and patience that I can sit with peace and still live out my dream?

If I leave them with an open-ended question, might some of them respond?

Hi, Fear.