I'm thinking about what my biggest resistance to writing my heart out has been. There are so many! How do I possibly choose the biggest one? They all seem so big! So, maybe I just choose the clod of resistance that is closest to me at the moment: abject fear.
Yeah, I know. We have nothing to fear but fear itself. I'm afraid of that fear like nobody's business. I'm sure as I break down the fear, I will see it is made of lots of tiny fears all stuck together like hard-tack soil. It seems impossible to pound it apart. So, I'll start on the edges where the fear is most vulnerable to contrary facts.
I'm afraid, for instance, if I really spend my time writing that my kids won't love me anymore. They'll see that mommy is checked out, busy and otherwise occupied. They'll suffer through meals of macaroni and cheese instead of five-course hand-made delicacies. They'll have to learn to do laundry, do the dishes and pick up after themselves. They won't be able to occupy the living room (because that's where my desk is also) watching endless hours of TV at will. They'll have to learn to entertain themselves. OMG!
This edge of the clod is breaking up fast. For one thing, when my kids see that I'm writing, the fact is that they get very excited and start writing themselves. I've seen this phenomenon repeatedly and so I believe it. And, all those things they'll have to do for themselves? Wahoo! Isn't that what I'm supposed to be doing for them as their parent anyway? Sure they'll resent me for a while, but in the end I know, know, know that they'll thank me for it. Besides, to be honest, they prefer Kraft Mac & Cheese and Pigs 'n the Blankets to sage and orange salmon.
I'm afraid that my lovely husband will not help me once he discovers that my writing really means that the laundry may not be done, the house may be a mess, and meals may get very simple. Hmmmmm. He and I both need to lose weight. He already helps with the laundry. The house is a mess anyway, and if it gets worse may prompt some assistance from he and the kids. This edge of the clod is going bye-bye, too.
Here's a harder part...I'm afraid if I write I'll never make enough money to survive...ooh hoo, this is getting more at the heart of the fear clod...