I've had my doubts, and my doubts have had me.

Outside the window of my home office, rainfall folds softly into the low hums of a spinning HVAC system. Spring is fighting Winter for dominance as cherry blossoms and dogwood trees reach peak bloom. Between unsettled nature, I think to myself, Am I writing this post out of obligation, or do I have something important to say?

Let’s be honest for a moment. There are much better blogs you could subscribe to. I’d wager they post more frequently than me, too. Flaky is an appropriate adjective to describe my level of reliability in posting to a blog.

In my mind, I’ve written countless posts: shared funny anecdotes, cried about the state of the world and for its inhabitants, eloquently described the break of light through newly budding branches as Spring pushes into place.

And yet, I fail time and time again to capture the fleeting internal monologues to share with others. Are they worth sharing? Will they invoke eye rolls and hasty clicks off-screen, rendering the reader’s expectations horribly let down—never wanting to read another blog I’ve written?

Maybe you’ve experienced, or are currently experiencing, similar hesitations about sharing your work with others. Possibly out of fear of being judged or some other potentially disastrous outcome. Let me ask of us both: (1) Does it matter if not everyone likes what you’ve written? (2) Do you like what you’ve written?

It doesn’t matter how much therapy I’ve had over the years or the number of advanced degrees in psychology I’ve earned (M.A. and soon Ph.D., if you’re counting)—I still have my doubts, and my doubts have me.

What I’ve found most helpful in shaking apart self-doubt is surrounding myself with others who encourage me to continue writing and are open about their doubts, too. Of course, this works best if encouragement and truth go both ways. So, here I am, telling you that you’re not alone if you’re self-doubting or feeling off.

The world was burning long before COVID, but there is restorative power in the fire itself. Some fires are more destructive, making recovery difficult without assistance.

Nevertheless, under ash there is regrowth. After Winter, there is Spring. There is renewal. There are buds of genius within you ready to bloom. It’s time you tend to your internal garden. Go do something positive for yourself and only for yourself. I’ll be here when you’re ready to return.

-Candice

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