Updated: Jan 7
I am back at that place.
That place filled with hollow dread and loneliness so black there is nothing to be seen. The place I feel I have fought 1,000 times to escape from but keep falling back to.
I actually thought the other day that if my kids weren't here, I would be either. There would be no reason to continue on. They keep me here. They keep me fighting when the darkness takes over.
There are moments when the exhaustion of it all takes over. When, even on the sunniest days, all I can see is blackness.
And if you know me, you would know that that really isn't who Samantha is. Samantha is a Warrior (as my friend keeps telling me as I write this). Samantha is a fighter. Samantha is someone who sees dark clouds and finds the sunshine in those clouds. There is beauty surrounded me but I am blind to it.
It is in this place that I shut down. I close myself off to those around me. I yell more at my kids. I lock myself in the bathroom and cry uncontrollably; wondering how I even got to this place. Wondering how the 1 person that I need to read my words, take them in completely and understand them; doesn't.
And that's when the real questions kick in. The questions of my worthiness as an entrepreneur, as a writer. As a woman who is determined to teach women to share their stories.
I allow that pain to curl me up and keep me from expressing myself. Keep me from sharing my words.
Because they are too painful to write.
Because they are too painful to acknowledge.
Because those around me would just tell me to journal, to make my voice heard, to just be happy.
Parts of my story are painful to write about. They make me question every moment in my life. They make me feel like there will never be a time that I don't have to fight for what and who I love. They make me feel incapable of becoming the woman that I have dreamt of being.
The warrior Samantha is kicking and screaming inside trying to find her way out but the broken Samantha is keeping her trapped. Trapped where she is safe. Trapped where nothing can harm her or break her.
I had a great week. I signed a new client that I am so excited to work with. I sold a blogging planner on Thanksgiving Monday. I had a plan.
WHEN BLOGGER BURNOUT DISRUPTS YOUR PLANS
I had a plan. I have had a plan set up for a while. I am an organized person and thrive on that. I normally can tell when I am going to hit a rough patch. Being in the darkness before, you get used to the warning signs. But this time it was different.
I couldn’t stick to my plans. I was trapped between wanting to get the words out and wanting to shut in on myself. I got the words out until Thursday and then I collapsed inward. I could no longer hold on to the flimsiness that was keeping me afloat. And so I collapsed.
I have come to realize that, for me, blogger burnout doesn’t have ANYTHING to do with blogging. It has NOTHING to do with my clients. It has EVERYTHING to do with how I am dealing with the rest of my life.
So I guess it really wasn’t blogger burnout at all. It was the, I am worthless message that I have been fighting off for years and years (17 to be exact).
ALL IT TOOK WAS 7 WORDS TO IMPLODE
7 words. That is all.
Do you know how many words it would take you to implode? To collapse in on yourself and wonder about every part of your life. Mine was 7. 7 words to make me wonder who I was, who I mattered to and what I was truly doing with myself.
Are you wondering what those 7 words were?
I don’t have time for date night.
Those words echo through my head ever since they were said. Those 7 words made my inside walls come crashing down but I held it together. Well, for the most part. I disappeared. I didn’t post to social media. I didn’t work on my business. I sat on my couch and disappeared into the TV shows that I was watching. I allowed the anger to build and build and dig its way out of the rubble of those crumbled walls.
I took words away from myself. The one way that I have learned to cope and deal with the troubling times in my life. I cut it off. I couldn’t do it. I had no idea how to move past those 7 words. And I didn’t. Honestly, I still haven’t.
BLOGGING GAVE ME A VOICE THAT I STILL COUNT ON
Those 7 words made me question my worth. Made me question if I was loved. My beautiful friend, Jody, sent me these words.
We NEED to see our own value. That in standing alone we hold some of our most beautiful pieces.
As I slowly pick myself up off the floor of the bathroom, wipe the tears from my eyes and grab my computer to write this post, I am standing on my own. I am trying to hold my pieces together. I am trying to remind myself that I am worthy despite words that other people say to me. I am trying to remind myself that crying on the bathroom floor doesn’t mean I am weak. It means that I am living and surviving. That I am fighting battles that will make me stronger someday. Even if today doesn't feel like that day to me.
Words make sense to me. I can express myself. I can walk through the pain as I write the words to the page. I can question. I can look within. I can break down the moments of despair and give them a voice.
That is what blogging has done for me.
And I know this isn't a "usual" post for me… but I think sometimes it's nice to get to know each other a little more. Be vulnerable. Be Authentic. That's what happens when you work with me… hearts get opened. I guess this was my moment to open up to you. I hope that's ok. Thank you all for listening.