Tuesday, March 8, 2016

It's Honestly That Time of Year!

You guuuuuyyyysss...It's cookie season!
Oh, you know what I'm talking about.  Don't try and play coy with me.  You know you count down the days until this time of year arrives.
Y'all. It's Girl.Scout.Cookie.Season.
Oh man.  My mouth is already starting to water just thinking about those delicious Samoas and Thin Mints.  They are little morsels of heaven that the angels bring from the sunny skies above.  Those sweet angels are also known as The Girl Scouts, themselves.
Those tiny green beret wearing babes come a knockin' and I get my check book a rockin'.  I mean, they are absolutely robbing you blind with those things, but I will pay 400% more than I should for a life-giving sugar coma.

It was just a hop, skip, and a jump ago that I was a cookie pimping Girl Scout, myself.  Every year my fellow Girl Scout friend and I would put on our vests, littered with random badges, and set out to convince our neighbors to throw over their hard-earned cash for that hard confectioner's sugar stuff.  Usually, we would both go up to the door, and ask whomever answered to buy from both of us.  It was extortion for sure, but we were too young to really know how that was, you know, kind of messed up.  What is even more shocking is that most everyone obliged.  They just split their purchases between the two of us.  It all worked out fairly well for the most part.
Except this one time.
This one time my friend took the lead, rang the doorbell, and asked the gentleman whose house it was if he would like to buy Girl Scout Cookies.
He said, "Why, yes, I would!"
And began filling out the order sheet.  Boy, did he ever.
Lands, that guy went to town on her order sheet- I mean like he would never get to eat cookies again.  He just kept marking and marking and marking.
Finally, I piped up and said,
"Um, sir, would you like to order from me too?"
He looked at me sideways and said,
"You're not the one who asked.  You didn't do the work."
I was stunned, and really hurt.  I mean, I showed up.  I wore my vest.  I brought my order sheet.  I just didn't knock.  I just didn't actually ask.  I just didn't let myself be known.
So, I didn't get the reward.

You guys.  I feel like I need to be honest with you. 
I know you all just sat down.  That is a shocking statement coming from me, but I feel like I owe this to you and to myself. 
You guys, I feel like I worry too much about this blog.
I started Different is Different as a way to speak my truth.  I started it as a way to write my heart, and, hopefully, provide a glimmer of hope for a few people.  Honestly, when I started it I had no intention of this "becoming" something.  I just thought I would write, and if people liked it, great, and if not, great.  
Then, I started listening.  
I started to listening to people close to me about how good it was, and filling my head with dreams.  These things weren't, and still aren't, bad. They were really humbling and wonderful, but they led me to start drifting.  To start strategizing.  To start worrying that about how "good" my writing is...about how "good" I am.  
You know, basically the antithesis of why I even started this thing.

Right now, I feel like I'm standing on your front porch, on my front porch, knocking on the doors of our hearts.  I'm wearing my vest, I've got my badges, my order sheet, but I'm just not saying anything. I look the part, and I am proud to be here.  
 I'm just not giving the entire breadth of my thoughts, the entire breadth of my heart.
Why am I doing that?  Why would I hold back from you, from me?
I'm scared.
I'm afraid of what other people might think.
I'm afraid of what those closest to me might think.
I really want everyone to like me.
I really want people to like this blog.
I really want to hear how you love and like me.
I only want the softest, easiest constructive criticism.
I basically want everything for nothing.
But that's not how this works.
That's not the deal.
I've heard Cheryl Strayed say on Dear Sugar Radio,
"The deal is you respond to The Universe's call, put your art out there, and The Universe does with it as it may."
If that doesn't sound absolutely terrifying to you, then you've done more inner work than I. I feel a lot of shame in the dark, quiet corners of my mind about the gripping fear I have about my writing.  
I feel like I should quit to avoid making a mistake.
I feel like I should quit to avoid potentially hurting someone else.
I feel like I should quit to avoid potentially hurting myself.
That's cowardice, for sure, but it sounds safe, right?

I'm not alone in this.  I know that.  This is the plight of the artist.  This is the plight of the human heart. Bravery comes at a high cost.  It comes as you stare in the mouth of the roaring lion of fear.  Braver is trusting that even if the lion eats you, it's worth it.  
Friends, I am not there.  I am terrified of messing up publicly.  Of messing up here, a place I want to be a second home.  
But here's what I know:
I've messed up a lot at my own home- both the one I was born into and the one I created with Dearest.
And you know what?
I'm better for it.
I've learned from those mistakes.  I've learned from becoming more humble, from lowering my status.
So, I may not be there, but here is my promise to you:
I'm going to show up.  I'm going to ask for you to listen with me.  I'm going to give us more and more of my heart.
My whole heart.
Scout's Honor.


  1. This truly resonates with me. I can relate to so much of what you are saying, in fact I said some of the same things the other night to my husband. I know I'm learning things and growing and I want to share those things on my blog, but I'm afraid. I want people to like me. I'm afraid that some of what I think and feel and wonder and worry about will push people away or make them think differently about me. But I also feel myself wanting to be known. I've spent so much of my life keeping so much of myself to myself and feeling like no one understands me. But that is my own fault if I am not brave enough to let myself be known. But as much as I want that, and as much as I am blessed when I am able to do it with some of my people...it is terrifying and I'm scared. Thank you for sharing your story...it helps to know I'm not alone. Keep being brave and I'll try to do so too.

    1. Keri, girl, preach. This is the ultimate dilemma I believe we all face- which makes it easier and harder, if you ask me. I can tell you that you're not alone, though, and I am virtually holding your hand and cheering you on! Sending love and good thoughts your way!