For the days it comes crashing down

Linking this post today with Momalog as one of my favorite posts. It was written in a moment of vulnerability, and I want to be this honest in everything I write. It’s also a favorite because these feelings are cyclical, and I come back to this post when I feel this same way again. (Please read all the way through the comments — some of them are why this post is my favorite.)

There are those days, and they always come: When it all comes crashing down.

And as you stare at the wreckage, you wonder how the tottering mess ever stayed up at all.

I say the wrong thing. My insecurity threatens to eat me alive. I vacillate between feeling inspired and feeling absolutely crushed by the internal chatter: who do you think you are? and you’re a fool, and everyone can see it.

And it’s all a shadow of a thing, a vapor: something breaks and I see it all for what it is.

It’s all pride, and it’s all fear. It’s all me, scared to death of trying something that has a very high probability of failure. Writing what’s in my heart, letting it bleed onto the page, and then asking others to care. Seeing if their hearts have seen the same truths. Asking am I alone in this? to the whole wide universe, or to a literary agent, or a publisher, and then waiting for the answer.

It is crazy terrifying.

So I try to build it up, I follow the rules, I read the step-by-step blog posts, I figure out what I’m supposed to do and I do it. And some days, the comments and the analytics boost me higher, say see, yes, people hear you, and then the next day it all looks like shambles. The numbers don’t matter anymore, because it really comes back to the art. Numbers lie. Art speaks truth.

And the God of all Creation, the Source of this light inside, the Voice that inspires the words and without whom it would all be empty, he waits. He sees my fear, my pride, my pain. What he asks is simple: He only wants all of it.

Not for insecurity, which is my reason for trying to hold so tightly: He wants all of it so he can set me free. Find new words. Breathe new life. Co-create in this continual act of renewing it all until all is light and color and hope, and I can sit back, thankful. Not proud, but grateful. Humbled.

Linking with Kristina and Heather and truly free-writing these jumbled thoughts. Dunno if they’ll make sense to anyone except me, but I needed to speak them anyhow.

Blog Bash

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>


22 comments on “For the days it comes crashing down

  1. Leslie says:

    I found you through Just Write – this is lovely!
    And oh, have I been where you are. You are not alone.

  2. CJ says:

    I used to look at the numbers. And I’d be lying if I said every comment didn’t give me a little peace of joy in my day….but when you start writing for you, with no care for the affect on others, that’s when He comes through and you really shine.

    • Yes! I’ve found this to be so true. When I plan something out and then struggle to write it, I get a so-so response. When I just sit down and write because I have something fighting to get out of me, something I can’t NOT say, that’s when people show up and say they get it. He really does come through in those times.

  3. For those of us who write, we can relate and I echo what CJ says. I have wrestled with God and find peace in knowing it is about relationships over statistics. With Him and with others. And your free write, it does make sense.

  4. Sarah says:

    Kim, I needed to hear these words. I’m new-ish at blogging and the longer I do it, the more attention I pay to the numbers. I find myself sinking deep into self-criticism sometimes. And at the end of the day, I must remember that writing is from God and He’ll use it how He wants to, numbers or not. Thanks for letting me know that I am not alone in this struggle, friend!

    • I suppose it’s one of those things — it’s better to just not look. I find myself taking a peek every week or so, but I never feel awesome afterward. What good does it do, anyway? I’m only seeking external validation. It’s such an ongoing struggle.

      • Sarah says:

        Sure is a struggle. I’m trying to remind myself that it’s not how many people see what I write, but how many people are impacted by what I write. And I’d rather God use my writing in the life of one than have 1,000 click in and click out haphazardly. Right? But still . . . those numbers . . .

  5. Tricia says:

    I’m so right where you are. Battling between caring about the numbers and knowing that if I’m writing for me, for the art of it, for the craft, then all is as it’s meant to be. Hang in there. Your writing is lovely.

    • Thanks Tricia. So true — as we pay attention to the craft, not the numbers, that’s when our true art comes through.

  6. Hi Kim,

    I found you through Twitter, and I can tell you that your line sucked me in from the very beginning: Numbers lie, but art speaks truth. I do love this.

    It’s so challenging in a competitive world where numbers grant that powerful, addicting sense of validation. But you’ve nailed it by acknowledging: “He wants all of it so he can set me free. Find new words. Breathe new life. Co-create in this continual act of renewing it all until all is light and color and hope, and I can sit back, thankful. Not proud, but grateful. Humbled.”

    I’ve been thinking much lately about the motivations behind my writing and digital sharing. As I’ve lately learned to see it, I’m curating an art gallery – showing the beauty and the pain, making commentaries and (hopefully) revealing His truth as I go… Being true to those deep desires is fulfilling.

    When I start to lose perspective and focus instead on stats and public acclaim, I risk losing the art and the mystery for the sake of the short term boost in pride…

    Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts. I look forward to reading more as you are prompted to share…

    • Bethany, this is so beautiful. Curating an art gallery is such a lovely way to look at it. The pride boost is certainly not worth the loss of art, not when you put it that way. The numbers give us our fix, but our art gives us our very life. Thanks so much for sharing this.

  7. Jules says:

    Amen, sister. It is all so simple and complex. So humiliating and humbling. So graceless and graceful – the way we live this life and pursue greatness. You inspire me. Your words ring true in the space you have carved out in the digital vastness. You connect to many, and those many need to breathe in what you exhale out – thanks for sharing your heart with us.

    • Thanks friend! So graceless and graceful — yes, so true. And thanks for the reminder that as long as I’m speaking truth, I’m on the right path.

  8. I love this. Especially when you said,
    “The numbers donโ€™t matter anymore, because it really comes back to the art. Numbers lie. Art speaks truth.”


    “What he asks is simple: He only wants all of it.”

    So very true! Beautiful words written here, Kim. Love your heart. Your raw, honest, and beautiful heart.

  9. shayla says:

    this is beautifully written and so true. it is “crazy terrifying.” oh, yes it is.

  10. I’ve found a new love. <3

  11. Ado says:

    Free-writing is my favorite.
    I’m so glad you chose this post.
    I got it.
    Thank you.
    And thank you for linking up to celebrate our Blog Bash with us. I really appreciate it. (-:

  12. Ditto what Ado said. Thank you for sharing this beautiful, raw and honest post with us for Blog Bash.

  13. Frelle says:

    this was beautifully expressed, and Im so glad to have found you through the momalog linkup! I understand these feelings, too.

  14. Julia says:

    Gorgeous post. Thank you for sharing such honest and vulnerable thoughts.