I don’t want to be an inspiration.
That’s not what drives me.
In the months that followed my loss, as a PTSD I couldn’t name ate away at my brain, my ex-boyfriend liked to read my Awesome Life Tips book to me when I was struggling. It seemed sweet enough, because he loved my book. He loved my words and thought I was so smart and wise.
But it pissed me off like nothing else.
Because he didn’t understand.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my book. I’m proud of those words and I poured my heart and soul into them. I’ve received so many emails from people who’ve gotten so much good from those tips… but in the darkest depths of my grief, my own words fell flat. They didn’t do anything for me.
Those words were written during a much different chapter of my life, for a very different purpose and person. They weren’t written with the complexities of grief and trauma in mind. Not even close.
The gift of those moments where I was quoted to myself, without any understanding of the context or how damaging it was, is that I evolved both myself and my work. I started a new conversation completely. I started writing about the harder things and sharing my own healing journey as transparently as possible. I took the firm stand that while positivity has its place and gratitude is an amazing tool, they’re not *the* solution to what’s hard and what hurts. And they can far too easily be used to bypass the actual work of feeling and processing and moving through.
My hope with those old words was to inspire. To give a burst of beauty that would shift someone’s perspective. Add a little joy to their day.
That’s not my goal anymore.
I’m not interested in inspiring you.
I’m more concerned with whether or not my words, work, and presence catalyze you into action. Whether or not you take the inspiration you may feel and start doing the work to truly heal. To ‘rise up’ and ‘come back’ in the aftermath of the challenging chapters. To understand the purpose of your path and the trajectory of your journey. To rewrite the ending to the storyline as many times as it takes to craft something you’re proud of.
I’m grateful and happy if you resonate with my words.
But I care more about what you do with that resonance.
Because that’s what really matters.