letting go

I have become consumed by a desire to prove myself as a writer. To prove the validity of my decisions to myself. To prove wrong the false assumptions that I need to go to college, need a real job, need another career.

I just wanted to know that I’m making the right decisions for my life; that writing really is what I’m called to do. I wanted people to understand and to affirm these decisions; for them to stop criticizing me, trying to talk me out of the path I’ve chosen to walk.

I thought that if I became a good enough writer, I could prove myself right.

All these thoughts have been trapped inside for so long, longing to get out. They’ve been trying to force their way onto paper, even into my stories. So I sat down and let them escape. I have striven to let the troubles of my soul spill out into words as honestly and truly as I feel them deep inside.

And now I can see them more clearly. I see that these desires, these motivations have been driving my writing. And they were what paralyzed me.

I’ve been so caught up in proving myself as a writer that I’ve become a perfectionist. Worried that my writing will never be enough. Unwilling to take the plunge on crazy ideas. I’ve been holding onto a dream so tightly that I didn’t have time to breathe.

I don’t have to be stuck like this. I don’t have to be caught in an endless cycle of worry that I’ll never be affirmed.

Its time to let go. And that’s hard. But there’s grace to loosen clenched fists.