I didn't mean to take such a long break from blogging. I've sat down at the computer several times this summer intent to publish something. I really wanted to share with you about my freshman year, but something always stopped me. Something ugly and intimidating and gross.
I once read an author say she didn't believe in writer's block, and to a certain extent I don't think I do, either. I have names for whatever has stopped me from writing, and they're called: fear, the feeling of inadequacy, smallness, doubt, and a host of others.
It wouldn't be too much of a problem since this blog has maybe five regular readers. Except I'm speaking at a conference in TX later this month, standing on a stage alone sharing my family's story. This is requiring me to write, regardless of writer's block and feelings of inadequacy.
My first semester, I had a fabulous English teacher. I fairly ran out of her class the first day she gave us a big assignment: to write a paper on something or someone new to us at MC. By that night I had chosen a subject and written all of my interview questions and created a rough outline. I love telling people's stories. When it came time to tell a story of our own, however, and I had to talk about move-in day and the week of Cate's hospitalization that prefaced it, I was stopped dead in my tracks with--you guessed it--writer's block.
I don't really understand it. I believe deeply in my soul that everyone's story matters. I would like to climb on top of a tower and shout to every person in the world that they have a story and it deserves to be told. I would throw pencils and pens at them and urge them to document the moments of their lives, because they are unique to them and beautiful and the world should know about those moments.
But what a hypocrite I am, because when it comes time for me to write the moments of my own life, my ears can only hear, "You don't even have a story. These words don't matter. The world has better things to think about."
My dear family and sweet friends are quick to assure me these words are lies--they kindly encourage my heart, and their encouragement gets me through another paragraph or so.
But then I had a video conference with two other women headed to this conference. At first I was silent, struck again with how little I have to contribute. Soon, though, I forced myself to speak and found myself laughing over the strange comments families like ours often get. It felt nice. Until one of them asked me, "So, Claire, do you use a chair?" and I realized with a sickening drop in my stomach that she assumed I had CP. Awkward apologies and explanations followed. Just a single comment, and it was enough to bring that writer's block back so forcefully I just want to cry as I stare at the words I have written and think about the many I still need to fit into my time-slot.
When I struggled so much on that English assignment, I started writing about something that makes me smile (salsa dancing), and it shoved that great big block out of the way and somehow became the paper (seriously I wrote about salsa dancing, ha). While I don't think I'll be printing this out and sharing it at the conference, I hoped it would do the same. As I wrote, I received an email from one of the women from the video call. I had written to apologize, again, over the confusion of whether or not I had CP, and to give her permission to take me off this presentation committee since it doesn't really make sense for someone without CP to stand up there. She actually told me she knew I didn't have CP and wanted a sibling's perspective added. That email, coupled with the words that now cover this page, have successfully shoved that great ugly block out of the way.
I think next time I go four months without blogging I'm just going to slap myself with a reminder to get over myself, haha.
Thank you, readers, for faithfully reminding me that my story matters when I sometimes forget. You show me that every time you click on this little blog of mine, and you have no idea how much that means to me. Thank you.
P.S. you should write your story down no matter how hard it is because it's important that the world hear it.