Rubbing Against Old Patterns

I am writing a book/book proposal; working hard to manifest last new moon's intentions. I have always wanted to be a writer. And, I am.

I am grateful for this platform in this technological and connected age. But, I want more. I want books in print, partly for ego, if I'm being honest, but mostly because I have something to share. I completed a Masters degree in Writing to support the manifestation of this dream. I started this blog to support the manifestation of this dream. I went to the Writer's Workshop to manifest this dream.

And this week, I found myself rubbing up against the same old conditioning that has plagued my life: fear.

That I'm not good enough.
That I'm not unique enough.
That I have nothing new to say.
That no one is really interested.
That I'm not good enough.
That I'm not good enough.
That I'm not good enough.

Fleeting thoughts, not deep enough to upset me. And, real enough to paralyze the free flow of my writing.

I combat these thoughts, this fear, and keep doing it anyway. This is what is different now. I push through in spite of the fear. I haven't given up. I continue to torture the words, forcing them into uncomfortable positions, making them do my will.

And then Saturday morning comes, I watch some inspirational videos, and I remember to trust myself, and I remember to trust the universe (or God), and I remember that every path I take leads me closer to my enlightenment.

And I hear the higher voice reminding me to be authentic, telling me not to do what other books have done, do what you do best Tina, and I recall a message I received last week from my long term friend and sister, Crystal, and she was already reminding me of what I needed to do. It took me a couple of days, that's all, for my mind to catch up and trust.

That pesky voice who lives in fear, man, it comes at the worst times, and it inhibits growth and movement, and I forgot to acknowledge it and tell it that I hear it, but it has no power here anymore, because it found a different way to get in. It didn't come in and stop me from starting, it waited until I was in the writing groove and then it struck, mercilessly. It camouflaged itself, and it has taken a couple of days for me to see it for what it is.

But I see you now, fear, little f, and I am telling you again, you don't live here anymore.

And so mote it be. Vanquished.

Time to write.

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