The Question That Scared Me
My recent hiatus here was not purposeful. Something about this little corner of the cyber world felt like trying to fit in jeans that are two sizes too small.
I could blame scheduling conflicts or the relaxed nature of summer and the fact that I’m with my kids 24 hours a day. But the truth is that if I wanted to be here I would have made it happen.
That’s pretty bold to suggest I don’t want to be here. Foolish even. After all, if I don’t want to be here, why would you?
But I keep these jeans in my closet. I’m not ready to let go of them. Even if they never fit.
Sometimes I wonder which is scarier, the idea that this space will never fit, or that someday it might.
I can’t even pinpoint why. I just know that it felt right and now it feels off.
Yesterday I asked myself a question that scared me.
What if I don’t like blogging?
Sometimes it just seems like the thing everyone is doing. I read how I need a platform and an audience if I ever want to be a real author. As much as I like my lists, the truth is I battle within myself. I never really took well to being told what I can or can’t do. I still don’t.
I don’t have any answers to my question.
The jeans still don’t fit, but I’m not giving them up just yet.
About Becky Hastings
I am emotional and logical. I am strong and dependent. I am a juxtaposition of head and heart exploring it all through writing. And in all my mixed-up ways I am loved. I'm here to tell you that you are, too. Just the way you are.