Nothing is done and I don’t care.

It’s not in my nature to turn projects loose unfinished. I obsess over the little things until I am so tangled up in my own thoughts and feelings that I can barely function. So it is quite out of character for me to publish something on this blog of mine that’s still a major, slow, work in progress.

Yet here I am.

This morning when I woke up, it just hit me. I don’t care if this thing is perfect. I just want to write. I want to write for that piece of myself that needs to share my heart. I want to write for my baby girl, who will always know that her mama has dreams and hopes and stories. And I will write for all my friends out there who suffer in silence. Who carry burdens without saying a word. Who feel alone in a scary world, alone in the midst of a faith they can’t make sense of, alone in this world where expectations feel so high and grace feels so low.

What I am learning about myself is I am incapable of pretending. Of course there are times when I fake it-we all do. But in the general sense of the word, I just can’t. If I don’t live with my heart on my sleeve, something inside of me starts to shrivel. It’s always been one of those things that I could barely stand about myself. I always felt like the annoying girl who was prone to word vomiting all her life experiences. But then one day, Eric told me that is one of the things he loves most about me. My bravery with my words. How he never has to guess what’s going on in my heart and mind.

That changed everything for me.

So here I am. Messy blog, messy hair, messy house, messy life. I vow that this will be a safe place. Not only for others, but for myself. No expectations. No standards to live up to. Just a blank space to write it all down.