You stare at your blank notebooks and think you don’t have anything of substance to say. You stare at a blank screen and think your voice isn’t needed. You want to give up, to quit, to go back to thinking you aren’t the creative type, that you can’t be a writer. But something keeps you from walking away.
I’m realizing though, for someone who *thinks* she likes who she is becoming, I am still fighting the inner critic telling me I’m not enough
I am in the process of creating space for my writing to grow- physical, mental, and emotional space.
I want it to be an honest version of myself, I want to be vulnerable and share hard things within this space because I know that there are other moms out there struggling too.
So, this is me, stepping out in faith. Faith that I can do hard things, that I can continue learning about the world, life, and myself. Faith that motherhood, for me, is so much more than raising children, but learning alongside them.