Speak Your Truth.

Lately, it feels as if I’ve literally been hit with a surge of inspiration in my life as I’ve felt a strong calling to pursue my passions (for real this time.) A calling so strong that it’s been nearly impossible to deny. It’s just bubbling there beneath the surface in all that I do, in all that I say, its always there, nagging at me. I’m so tired of denying it, you guys. So, it’s time for me to claim it. You see, I have always had this deep desire to write a book. I could always close my eyes and picture myself as a writer, but I kinda treated it like a dirty little secret or a silly dream that just wasn’t possible. Who are these people that live as “authors” how do you get “lucky enough” to do such a thing for a living? I guess you could say that I was always a good student in English, took pride in my essay writing and I have definitely always been a storyteller. Perhaps I tend to exaggerate, but I claim creative ownership there. But then, I grew up and became a mom and had to be responsible and get a “real” job and as the years went on, my dreams of being an author slowly faded (or at least I was better at ignoring them.) But even now, I find it poking it’s little tiny dreamy head out at random times. Ever the storyteller, I live for the nights that I get to spend at happy hour with my closest friends huddled around on barstools asking “Okay, What happened this week?” as I spill my latest work dramas, mom fails and dating disasters. I always joke that the story of my life will be titled “I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried; a romantic comedy without the romance.” and well… it’s not really a joke; I really do intend to use that title someday. So don’t steal it!

Anyway, I digress.

As you may have read in my previous posts, I recently found myself on a solo trip to San Diego, California. While I didn’t intend to be a solo traveler, it just happened to be that way. (Read the story here, if you haven’t yet.) So, on this trip, I stayed in an air b’n’b, which turned out to be a bit of a disaster on its own, and I didn’t have a car. I Ubered around some, but constant Uber trips can really add up so I spent much of that trip walking from place to place and just hanging out in the neighborhood where I was staying. Luckily for me, there were plenty of interesting places to be discovered, good food to eat/beers to drink and an abundance of friendly strangers to meet. Each morning, I would pack my laptop, chargers and all of my seesntials into my backpack and hike (yes, I do mean hike from my air b’n’b on the top of a damn mountain…aka large hill… Floridians don’t really know the difference) and head out to explore. I would spend the majority of my days wandering from spot to spot and would typically end up in a coffee shop or brewery either making new friends or writing stories for the new blog I was determined to launch or alternating between the two. On this particular day and at this particular time, I was posted up in my favorite San Diego bar, Newtopia Cyder, diligently typing away on my laptop. What? A girl can’t write a blog in a bar? Or string malas in a bar? Apparently, you can in San Diego and no one even bats an eye. Add it to the list of things I love about this city. So, there I was typing away and chatting with my fellow bar friends, whom I had just met that day, when one of them asked me what I was writing and if I was a student.

I opened my mouth to answer him and the words that fell out were a surprise, even to me. Almost reflexively, without even thinking, I replied: “No, I’m not really a student. I’m kind of a writer.” Perhaps it was the cider talking or perhaps it was just the Universe giving me a nudge to step into my purpose or perhaps it was just my time, but I responded without pause and right there, in that bar, I spoke my truth for the very first time. Unfortunately, I immediately felt the need to correct myself by saying “Well, I’m not a real writer, I’m just writing for fun.” (Why do we do this to ourselves?) Looking back, I wish I hadn’t done that. I wish that I hadn’t felt the need to defend my statement or to downplay my truth. I wish that I would have stayed there, in my authenticity, with my vulnerability and stood behind that statement. After all, I am a writer and I should have owned it. The fact that I have never published a damn thing (not even a blog post at that time) should have had no bearing on the who/what I am; Nor should I have felt the need to validate the labels that I had put on myself. If you’re reading this, please don’t make the same misstep that I did. Just own it.

Nevertheless, I spoke those words and I claimed my vision as truth; I am a writer. Right then and there in that bar in Sand Diego, the smallest spark of pride began to grow inside of me and the more that I spoke about what I was writing and the more that I told my story to these strangers turned friends, the more powerful I began to feel. The more real my truth became. There is really no greater feeling than stepping into your power, into your light, into your full potential and OWNING YOUR TRUTH. It doesn’t matter that you haven’t met this standard or that benchmark yet. You don’t need letters behind your name or years of experience under your belt. The desires in your heart were put there for a reason; for you to realize them. So, you already are whoever you are, whoever you desire to be and you do not have to be defined/confined by societies ideas of what makes or breaks you. Be you. Be truly, authentically you and then bask in the glory of what that means and what it feels like. The more we speak about our desires out loud, the more that we begin to embody the things we want to be/do, the more we tell the Universe what we want, the faster it will be ours. Speak it, feel it, believe that it is already yours and it will be.

What is YOUR truth? Are you speaking it? Are you living it? Who are you really, truly? Tell me all about it….

And so it is. And so it is. And so it is. Amen.