Possibility. My word for this year.
“I dwell in Possibility–
A fairer House than Prose–
More numerous of Windows–
Of Chambers as the Cedars–
Impregnable of Eye–
And for an Everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky–
Of Visitors–the fairest–
The spreading wide my narrow Hands
To gather Paradise–”
Potential. Promise. Hope.
“Like an angry apply tree, I’ll throw my apples if you get too close to me.”
–Locked Up, Ingrid Michaelson
Okay. I’m going to be honest. This blogging thing scares the hell out of me!
I’ve been deliberating about whether or not I should do this for years now. I even set up an account, but once it was ready for the first post I went running for the hills. I’m still not sure about it but lately it seems that everywhere I turn, the subject comes up.
There are a million reasons why I don’t want to do this. I think the biggest hindrance is fear. Fear of judgment, fear of rejection. You know. All the basics. I ask the question, “Who am I?”
Do I have anything to say that others would find worth reading? Who cares about what Sarah is thinking? Isn’t blogging pretty narcissistic anyway? And what if I say something that the readers don’t like? Something that leads people to doubt my sanity, question my motives, and accuse me of turning away from my faith? I could give you the endless list of agonizing questions, but I will stop there.
What I have decided for TODAY is this:
I’m done with being paralyzed by anxiety. I want no more of censoring myself so that others only get glimpses of who I truly am. In my quest for authenticity I am learning how closed off my heart is (sorry about all that apple throwing). This is unacceptable.
So, here we go. Me. My life. My fears, my joys, my darkness, my hope. Uncensored. Unapologetic. Take it or leave it.