I’ve over-thought writing for Elephant Journal for more than half a decade. Today, my piece has been published!
Back when I started reading the publication, I received so much comfort and mindfulness from its stories. I knew I had something to share, but was just getting into community college after a long break away from traditional education. I had tested into a bunch of low-level classes mostly because of test anxiety and had too little confidence in my abilities. Writing for Elephant Journal was something that would have to wait for another day.
Fast-forward to this past December. I started working with a life coach who probed me about what sorts of things were outside of my comfort zone—those larger than life goals that felt somehow unobtainable—the things we only ever seem to dream about, never taking any action to get there because fear and comfort in the everyday holds us back:
- Run a marathon
- Become a vegetarian
- Actively pursue a committed relationship
- Write for Elephant Journal.
I committed to running a marathon and became a vegetarian but when pressed to pursue the relationship and the writing, I pushed pretty hard against taking them on.
Magically, as the other projects progressed and became routine—as I found I definitely could achieve the things that before felt impossible—suddenly I found myself heading out on dates and thinking of story ideas I could possibly pitch.
Truth be told, the first piece I penned thinking about Elephant Journal was basically a fangirl review of Jurassic World. I beat and interrogated myself mentally:
Why would you ever spend so much time writing that. What a waste of time! You’re a journalist and creative writer educated at the University of Southern California. C’mon! You can do better than this. Or, can you? Did you not learn anything about audience? You were an editor. Maybe you were a shitty one.
And then the more authoritative, self-soothing version of myself came in and started to speak kindly. I needed to confront and acknowledge that abusive voice that sought to keep me stationary.
Call it make-up writing. That inner fight gave birth to the story that was published today in Elephant Journal.
Elephant Journal is a publication with a mission to encourage mindfulness and the exchange of ideas among its community of readers and writers. It seeks to be of benefit to all who read it. I couldn’t’ think of anything better to share as a first piece, than one that might resonate with others who want to share their stories for the benefit of others but are—for whatever reason—hesitant to do so.
I wrote a letter to myself from this fearful, manipulative, and somewhat abusive version of myself—my former modus operandi—to the me that was just peering over that edge of my comfort zone, so close to leaping, yet still in a mental petrification. It’s a piece that explains all the reasons I never wrote, and the process of how I came to do so.
In speaking about why “I” do not write for Elephant Journal, I am able to address a newer, more hopeful version of myself—the “you.” In referring to myself as “you” in this piece, I also directly address the reader—a little trick I hope will allow a slightly deeper resonance with anyone in doubt of themselves.
I’m proud to share this little thread of vulnerability. I jumped, and I hope that others will be inspired to do so not only in seeking to write, but in any aspiration or pursuit long put on the back burner.
the RAMBLE 