This column is 11 days late. It should have gone up almost two weeks ago, on my normal date: the second Thursday of the month. But by that Tuesday, although I’d spent days on it and written thousands of words, nothing worked. I went in circles, I dove down rabbit holes, everything I wrote was confusing. I know because my brilliant coach Jennie Nash not only told me so, but pointed out why. And she was always right.
Panicked, I reached out to Therese, who gave me a reprieve, kindly arranging for someone to switch days with me, allowing me more time to write.
I’ve spent the past week writing failed draft after failed draft. Right now it’s Friday afternoon, and I’ve still got nothing.
Because – and it’s painful to admit this — I’ve been writing a column that would’ve been a lie.
And, apparently, I can’t do that – not, however, for lack of trying. I feel like a character in a story – fearful of owning what I honestly believe, feeling incredibly vulnerable. On the surface I want to seem calm, implacable, together. Inside, I’ve been a raging mess. [Read more…]