I’ve had a lot of trouble putting words to paper the past few days. I’ve tried to write multiple times. Tried to put together a thought or two. I’ve started I don’t know how many blogs, backspaced, deleted and closed my laptop.

I’ve tried paper and pen, my phone, anything just to get a word out.

And I always have to stop.

The thought won’t finish, I don’t come to a conclusion, I don’t HAVE a conclusion, it’s not flowing right or I just don’t want to share.

Last weekend I watched Little Women for the first time. (Yes, I’m a horrible English major.). But in it there was a moment where the German Professor had just read Jo’s manuscript and he didn’t really like it. It wasn’t enough of her heart.

“Jo, there is more to you than this; if you have the courage to write it”.

Whitney promptly told me that it would be my quote for the week.

(She was right.)

It’s been turning in my mind since that night.

I feel in regards to writing I’m pretty honest. I share what I’m learning; where I’ve been, where I’m going. I let the “raw” come out every once in awhile even though that’s a bit harder and takes a moment more for me to press publish.

But there’s more to me. And that more I don’t really know how to share.

So here is a piece of my more:

If there is one statement about myself that I’ve never had the courage to attempt in print it’s this:

I belittle myself all the time.

Things I’ve gone through, places I’ve been, hurts I have.

Which is why when I sit down to write a blog and can’t see a flicker of light at the end of the tunnel or any kind of peace in the midst of chaos I choose not to write because I feel it must not matter.

It’s a problem I have; choosing to brush under the rug feelings I have, hurts I have and places I’ve been when I think it’s not worthy of telling.

I am advocate for story. I supremely believe every nook and cranny in our life is a story to be told. Be it the story of the people who watched Grey’s Anatomy at my apartment every Thursday or eating tuna sandwiches at my grandma’s in high school or the hours I spent in the Bakersfield hospital when my mom was sick.

Everything big or small leaves an imprint on our hearts.

We need to not push the bad and ugly parts aside. Or even the supremely joyful.

I need to not push those parts aside.

So all this to say I’m choosing to share one of those things that I have been belittling myself up and down about. The thing I found myself with tears running down my face because I was beating myself up for feeling this way.

Selfishness.

In a myriad of ways and moments. I won’t share the why or the what, but every time I’ve had a feeling or emotion or reaction to this specific major thing that just occurred I bat it away because I feel selfish.

It’s a vague thought, but that’s the spot I’m in. It’s not necessarily something sacred that I can’t share; but it something ugly I don’t want to share.

There’s more to me than the shiny. And that’s ok.

I’m not perfect, I’m not glue, I’m Meg.

Yes, there is more to me than “this”.

And I am gaining the courage to write more from my heart with each passing moment and realizing what that looks like. The feeling of not writing for anyone but myself and knowing that it probably actual is for someone

So amidst my ramble,and my wacky thought process and what came from a simple quote in a movie I want to leave you with another lovely quote that is a favorite of mine. It is something I hold onto and will take into the next.