We’ll see… I signed up for the blogging prompts for Bloguary, but I approach this as I do all other things in life, with caution and hesitancy. I have no large or grandiose plan, but I enjoy a good chance to write, so why not?

PROMPT: What is something you want to achieve this year?

While I love planning, I somewhat resist the faddish idea of setting New Year’s resolutions. My life is built on “slow and steady”. Baby steps. I don’t like to set a bunch of lofty goals, and honestly, it’s probably because I don’t want the disappointment of failing… and I’ve frequently felt the inner pain of failure and the familiar disappointment in myself. The more I write about this, the more I realize how incompetent I felt growing up. I didn’t think I was capable of much, and the things I did try, I tended to stumble through awkwardly. As a kid, this really shouldn’t have been a big deal. We learn new things and practice to get better. We as adults know that it’s unusual to approach something new with full competency already. But I didn’t know that.

No one told me that it was ok when I messed up. No one told me that they were proud of me for trying. No one knew the fear I felt in everything that I did. No one knew how hard it was to try new things because new things were unsafe to me. No one saw how I felt like I was broken.

Photo by Hannah Tasker on Unsplash

No one knew that the unknown was gut-wrenchingly terrifying to that scrawny little blonde girl.

You see, I did try things as a kid. I vaguely remember moments of little joys. I had big dreams in my heart. Today, I’m learning to fondly remember my little girl heart as a tad bit quirky and eccentric. I was cute in a funny way… deep down. I like to think I would like meeting me as a kid now. But at the time, I didn’t see anything to adore in myself. I didn’t see brave when I looked in the mirror; I saw failure and incapable. I saw incompetent. I saw annoying. I saw scared. I saw worthy of all the criticism and unworthy of being loved.

That little girl’s wonder and curiousity were quietly snuffed out. Unseen and unknown to the world. The days when our mom assigned us (me and siblings) different nights to cook only to find that I really didn’t get it right that time and I was met with a you can’t even do that? within my family. That time when I was interested in singers and singing and my mom quickly shut down that curiosity and then our church drama teacher appologized when she found out that one of the roles I had been given came with a solo… Immense shame. I had no idea why she was apologizing or why it was wrong to have a little girl dream of becoming a famous singer one day… But clearly I was very wrong. The moments when my fun and quirky personality peeked through and was quickly met with mockery from our dad. No explanations or educational moments, just shame. So much shame. There was something wrong with me.

I was just a little girl who wanted to have fun. To dream.

But calm down. You’re too much. And also not good enough.

You’re weird and there’s something wrong with you. Defective. Be careful what you try to do because you probably won’t be that good at it anyway. And gosh, everyone’s going to see that. Stay small. Why would you want to try something big anyway? Who are you to want to be noticed by anybody? Why should you be noticed? Just be happy with where you are and what you have because you don’t really deserve anything better.

This was my childhood message.
This is what I firmly believed to be true about life.

This is what I lived by until very, very recently.

But today… Today I’m learning to believe in beauty again. I’m learning to coax that little girl out and convince her that it’s safe to come out and try again. I feel so sad for that little girl. There was nothing wrong with her, but she didn’t know that. It makes me a bit mad that no one fought for her.

Slowly… that little girl and I are learning to practice new things.

So, in terms of what I want to accomplish this year, I think I want to accomplish trying. I want to try new things this year… and old things! I want to rediscover my little girl quirks and curiosity.

I want to find my way back to wonder.

That’s what I want to accomplish this year.

What about you?

4 responses to “Bloganuary?”

  1. Where do you find this “Bloguary?”


    1. You can sign up for the e-mail prompts at the bottom. 🙂 Have fun writing!

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Thank you! I love reading your blog! 😊


      2. *true tears* Thank you. It’s so meaningful to hear that.

        Liked by 1 person

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