I remember when I first started writing. I was captive to a river cabin my parents loved, but with no phone or TV, I was alone in my own world. With my trusty notebook in tow, I’d wander down by a small stream to sit and write in the quiet woods. Those journals, long gone, leaving only a dusty memory. Though I loved writing, I didn’t excel with my pen, having now what I understand as dyslexia, my words were oftentimes incorrect. I gravitated towards and embraced the poem on the photo below, “Kids Who Are Different,” by Digby Wolfe.
My writing self-confidence held steady at zero for many years. It even persisted when my husband, Byron, would give me praise. Instead, I allowed my inner critic to badger me with, “Clearly he simply doesn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
One day, out of the blue, Chief Reimaginator, Dennis Pitocco, tapped my shoulder and asked if I’d join the incredible group BIZCATALYST 360°. I immediately knew he’d gotten the wrong Edgington, Byron being the published author, the wordsmith, the prolific writer. The imposter is good like that.
No, he didn’t know Byron, it was my writing he saw potential in. Mine! (WFT! Seriously) Within a short time, I began trying the foreign word on. Writer. Like a shiny new pair of shoes, uncertain if they fit or not. Should I take them back, or keep them? Hmmm, perhaps. Just perhaps I may like them.
The what-ifs began to emerge. What if I was good? What if I was good enough to jump in a few mud puddles and share some messy stories that touched people? Ones that let them see that they, too, could overcome life’s obstacles.
Hurdles of never being good enough, of seeing letters backwards, of not being able to read until 4th grade, of being labeled ‘crazy, dumb, and stupid, of struggling to get through daily life because I indisputably did not fit in, lacking social skills that came naturally to others.
But there it was one day. So on it went. Writer. And it was a fit.
Writer. Now Published Author.
Own Your Value.
You Are More Than Enough.
You are worthy of putting this on too.
Writer.
Own it.
Tell your story. You never know who needs to hear your voice so that they can be strong enough to share theirs.
Mariah, thank you for this piece. I will share it with a few people I know. God Bless. P.S. I never really thought I had much to share in order to write about things, but slowly I have decided to write what is on my heart and if it helps another, then great. No one has to read what I write, and I feel everyone has a story.