That Devil of a "Little Voice

My plan was to transition away from my first blog - "quietragingwaters" - which was completely alcoholic-centric to this blog. That was to be about my "new" life, my "growth," my "healing" from being married to an alcoholic. I wasn't going to "just" write about the alcoholic's wife's life. I was going to share how far I have come since the beginning.

But then that Voice.

That we all have inside our heads.

That wants to derail and stall and defeat us.

"You haven't come THAT far," it challenged me.

"What are you REALLY saying that will help other women?" It taunted me.

"How will that (topic) have offer any kind of support."

Etc., etc., etc.

So my blog languished in the world created in my own head.

A world of lies and falsehoods.

But then, I received a message from a woman.

"Are you out there?"

"I could really use some support."

And I felt ashamed that I had begun something, made a sort of promise to my sisters-in-arms and fallen short.

Self-doubt is normal in human nature but I think in this world of bigger, bigger, bigger, more, more, more, grander, grander, grand, that doubt becomes amplified to a degree we can't shut out. Everywhere you turn, there is someone hawking how to get "1,000,000 followers" on your blog or how to earn "millions" selling on Instagram or how to "make $10,000" your first month of on-line whatever - personal coaching, branding, listing crap on Amazon. And so when you start a blog or a business or make some kind of humble but earnest effort at something you've always been passionate about, you are in danger of falling victim to the fallacy that in order to matter, count, make a difference, you need to immediately be producing some sort of grand product or results.

But one message, one woman, one voice asking, "are you out there?" Telling me, "I need support," reminded me that, as corny and cliche as it sounds, we help and we support and we make a difference one person at a time.

So to my reader-friend who was kind enough and brave enough to reach out and say, "I need help," thank you for trusting me with that vulnerability. And thank you for reminding me why I even started writing. And thank you for helping me silence that voice in my head.