I have memories as a young childÂ of writing poems. I remember writing one-off of a math book I had. This math book had fish in it. So naturally as any 10-year-old would, I wrote a poem based off fish. A line had entered my head and I had to write it down. Yes. I was writing poetry that far back.
From there I started taking composition classes. I remember it coming easy to me. The writing part anyways. I could put off writing a paper until the night before it was even due. I would still come home with a B.
If I remember correctly most of my papers in composition earned me B ‘ s and A’s. I had discovered what I was good at, at a young age.
For the rest of my life I knew what I wanted to be. Adults would entertain me as a young girl and would ask me what I wanted to do when I grew up. I would beam with pride as I told them I wanted to be a writer.
No questions. No doubts in my mind.
Grammar has never been my strong suit. Neither has math but for the sake of this blog post, we will stick with grammar.
As I went through life I started to let fear and ego sink in. I knew I had a talent but somewhere in my thinking I thought a rough draft should have been good enough. I felt like what I wrote was good enough the first time and I shouldn’t have to bother with honoring and refining my craft.
I didn’t understand a lot of my school work and the stubborn Taurus side of me would get frustrated.
(I was young but I could put up a fight.)
I felt stupid that I couldn’t comprehend the information that was being fed to me.
Though I have always done well at the creative part of writing, the back bone to my craft went over my head. Nouns. Pronouns. Sentence structure and the such were beyond my element. I was hard on myself and floated through, not really ever trying because I was scared. And I couldnâ€™t seem to ever just â€œget it.â€
I would tell my mom I got the information when I really did not.
My poor mom did try. I know that she didn’t have it easy with trying to home school a stubborn daughter and two sons. If I threw up enough walls she would back down and I would get out of it.
Eventually she sent me to college classes at our community college for basic English and Grammar. Lucky me also got enrolled in basic math.
I do not fully remember if I passed any of those classes or not. I feel as though I failed myself. Never graduating from High School. Not for a lack of my mom trying to help me. No. But from a lack of me not wanting to help myself. I wish I could understand now what I was thinking then. All I remember was a feeling of not ever being smart enough to understand what was trying to be taught to me.
I was also terrified of not being good enough. Knowing that a better writer was just around the corner. Comparing myself against the image of other people who only existed in my head. But to me, Â I just knew they were out there.
I would spend my life dreaming about eventually becoming a writer.
Maybe move to New York.
Eventually I would work for a magazine which would teach me all I needed to know about the business to eventually start my own.
I was 17 and I dreamed BIG.
Then life happened and I let my dreams die. I met my ex-husband when I was 18. I would wind up spending the next 3 years in a verbally abusive relationship with a man who didn’t love me.
In the darkness of that relationship I started finding comfort in a friend I had turned my back too. I had started to find the world my pen and paper created for me. In those dark days, I could zone out. I would allow myself to feel heavy and dark emotions. All to let the blood bleed through my pen.
In writing I found my escape. I could write how I felt and move on about my day. The paper wouldnâ€™t tell my secrets. It became my therapy. For years writing poems at the darkest moments of my life was the only way I could deal with the pain.
I wrote and I wrote some more. Poems scattered throughout books and journals. Some still taunting me with the bitter pain that moment held.
I left my husband 11 months after we got married. I was still young with the rest of my life ahead of me. My passion was still there. I just put it on the back burner. There it has sat for the last 15 years.
Coming up with every reason and excuse not to do something with it. Telling myself Iâ€™m not good enough, smart enough, talented enough, educated enough.
Being AFRAID of the work that it would take to make this dream a reality. Being told my grammar sucks and my spelling is bad. Things that I know and embarrass me to this day. I wanted my lowest effort to be good enough. Because if I actually did try to and IÂ still failed, that would hurt more than just a bit of effort and some words strung together.
Three years ago, two years ago I would not be able to follow through with trying to follow this life long dream of mine. I would have walked away from the daunting amount of work that would lay ahead of me. I would like the voices in my head that tell my Iâ€™m not good enough win. Just like they have won for 19 years.
Not today. Not now. Now I accept the challenge. Now I know is my time to make this passion a reality. To accept my mom telling me I spelt a word wrong and not take it as an insult to my intelligence. To know that she will correct me on my proper use of there and their.
I will use the dictionary I bought and watch YouTube videos to help me with my nouns. I will use my Word program and have a hundred red lines staring back at me. I will write with passion and go back and re-read and rewrite whatÂ needs to be done.
For this time I am ready. My fears will not keep me back any longer. I have chased a hundred dreams I will not let this one be the one I back down to.