The First Step Of Becoming Fully Alive

I’ve been having a hard time lately.

I actually feel really guilty saying that, since I am not sick or dying or bankrupt or anything like that. I have so much to be thankful for. But it’s true. Lately some things have happened that have stirred up the dust of my life, so to speak, and I feel like I’m sitting in the cloud of that dust right now, waiting for it to settle.

It’s not a bad thing. In fact, if anything, it’s probably good. But it doesn’t feel good and it sure makes it hard to get any words on paper. Every time I sit down to write what comes out sounds angry and jumbled or flat and untruthful or dramatic and over-reactive or despairing and like a victim.

So for the most part I just haven’t been writing anything.

I’ve gotten lots of advice from lots of people and for the most part it always sounds really nice until I try to do it. I sit down to my computer, or with a pen and piece of paper, and I just feel all stopped up, like I can’t say the things I really want to say and like if I said the things I wanted to say you would all finally realize I’m totally crazy.

So I usually write something that’s sort of half-true—the most truth I feel comfortable sharing without feeling like a total idiot, and no surprise here, that ends up reading like crap.

So that’s where I’ve been.

Anyway, the one thing I’ve been doing is writing a short eBook I hope to launch in a week or two (if I can finish it, and if it doesn’t suck). I’ve been thinking a lot about what it takes to be a writer, and what it takes to find your voice as a person, and how many similarities there are between the two. I’m trying to get my thoughts to a place where they’re at least coherent enough to share with you.

But one of thoughts I have about writing and finding your voice is that the first step is always showing up. It’s just dragging my sometimes-lazy butt out of bed in the morning and sitting it down on a chair parked in front of my computer. It’s allowing myself to speak the truth of my heart, even when I’m not sure what will happen—even if I worry I will lose friends or followers, or that it will make me seem crazy.

As I write this now I want to stop myself. This seems so obvious it’s almost stupid—but I’m realizing lately that while this might be simple, it is not easy.

Showing up is the most complicated, most important thing we can do.

Every time I try to do it, something gets in the way. It’s always something pressing and important, or just something with enough energy to throw me off course. Maybe it’s Facebook. Maybe it’s my own bad attitude. Maybe it’s drama—somehow drama always shows up when I’m trying to get to work. Maybe it’s a text message or a phone call. Maybe it’s bad news. Maybe it’s my own fear or anxiety.

Maybe it’s someone else’s criticism ringing in the back of my mind. Maybe it’s my own hatred of myself.

Whatever it is, it always feels incredibly powerful and it always shows up right about the time that I want to show up and do my work.

So the long and the short of it is: that’s why I haven’t been writing here much, or anywhere else for that matter. I’ve been letting all those distractions rule my world; I’ve been letting their energy throw me off course.

The hard part is, I’m not sure I know how to stop.

In fact I know I don’t know how to stop.

But I do know this: the first step is just showing up—resisting the anxiety and the drama and the insecurity and Facebook posts that make me lose my mind and my center and just getting myself to come here, to drop a note, even if it isn’t a profound one, even if it’s not all polished and put together, even if it makes me seem like a crazy person.

This is the hardest part. But this is the most important part. Showing up without all the right words to say, without a full explanation, without a “fix” for all of your problems, without a top ten list, without any tangible answers.

For now, I hope, maybe that will be enough.

To be honest, writing this whole thing makes me feel pretty confident that I’m not the only one who has ever felt this way. I guess I’ve just done this enough to know. I’m not the only one who has a hard time getting myself to show up to the gym, to put on my running shoes, to unroll my yoga mat.

I’m not the only one who has a hard time showing up to my marriage, showing up in my friendships, saying what I really need, what I really feel and I really want.

What would happen if we all did just that much? It’s not everything. But it’s a lot.

It might just be enough.

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