This Makes Zero Sense, But It Feels Right

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately.

Thinking about what it is I want from this little online presence I’ve carved out for myself. How do I want to use this gift and this responsibility? What do I want to say?

The answer isn’t that I want to teach people how to build furniture or how to use power tools. That’s a wonderful mission for someone else but that’s not aligned for me - It never was.

After soul searching to discover the answer to this question, I’ve uncovered that I want to tell my story. I want to use my story to help people. I want to use the experiences that I’ve lived through to strengthen others… Truthfully, I’ve known this from the very beginning. And to an extent, that is exactly what I’ve been doing. I’ve been processing my divorce and documenting my healing journey (which involved a lot of furniture building and power tools, mind you).

But here’s the thing. I’ve been through some seriously fucked up shit. The divorce was easy to talk about compared to the rest of my bag of trauma that I’m dragging around with me.

But there is this intense longing right in the center of my chest that is screaming out at me to open my mouth and talk already. “Tell your damn story Lacy! It is important and you WILL help people!” But I’m frozen. How the hell do I rip this bandaid off?

More over, how the hell do I rip this bandaid off and finally talk about my deepest traumas and therefor my beautiful healing journey ON A PLATFORM MADE FOR 30 SECOND VIDEOS. How the hell am I supposed to reduce something so huge and so important down to a trending sound and some catchy dance moves? I don’t think that I can.

I’m at a loss. I’m a bit paralyzed. What I want to say deserves time - time for the words I want to say to sink in. Time for me to truly tell my story in a way that honors the magnitude of all of it. I need space - Space to breath through the process of revealing my soft spots. Space to let my heart expand to its giant, enormous, fullest capacity.

SO with great trepidation, I am opening my laptop to write my first blog post in a year and a half.

I’m not confident that people even read blog posts anymore. And if they do, are they reading blogs like mine? The deeply heartfelt journal entries? The sometimes dense and vulnerable outpourings in black and white text?

From everything I’ve been told, the answer is no. No they are not.

But I have to tell you something. It feels really good to write…

So I guess I’m making my decision right here in front of you. I’m going to follow my gut. I’m going to listen to the relief I’m feeling in my chest as I type out the turmoil that I have kept locked in my head. This already feels like a release in my body.

Like a long sigh. A big exhale.

I’m going to start writing again and I’m not going to overthink it. This is where I am going to slowly unravel my story - all of the pain and all of the healing. All of the grief and all of the lessons.

It makes zero sense. But it feels right.

So here we go.