Before I had kids, I was ambitious and successful in my career. And as a new parent, I assumed applying the same skills and drive that had worked in my job to parenting would lead to a thriving family. I thought everything would work out according to my master plan.
Then, one of my three children was diagnosed with severe ADHD. When he was 18 months old, we were kicked out of Mommy & Me class and things went downhill from there. Parenting engulfed me and my work life fell by the wayside. Caring for aging parents, attending constant parent-teacher conferences, running between school pick-ups and soccer practices, and endlessly advocating for accommodations took up all the hours in my day. When I turned forty, I had no idea who I was anymore. I felt like I had lost my voice. I was drowning.
I had always been a writer, but I gave up writing in college. I didn’t think I was good enough. Over the years, I felt words bubbling up, but I squashed them. It wasn’t until I hit rock bottom, when I felt overwhelmed, empty, and with nothing left to lose, that I finally picked up a pen again.
Writing revealed my feelings to me. It helped me reclaim parts of myself that I had lost or divorced or given away years earlier. Writing brought me back in touch with who I truly was. Over the years of rushing around and being in service and making sure my family’s needs were met, I had not slowed down enough to consider my own needs or take into account my own feelings or develop a practice to stay in touch with myself. Writing forced me to do this: to slow down, uni-task, and connect to myself.
But writing was not without its own challenges. They say writers write ‘what they know.’ But I felt shame around writing about parenting and fighting with the school and the daily life of dinner-making and kid raising. I did not want to write what was true for me because I did not feel it was important enough to warrant writing about. Other people’s critique underscored my insecurities and made me want to quit.
Then I had an awareness from my spiritual psychology studies that changed my writing and my life: I judged my writing as ‘not good enough’ because I judged myself as not good enough. The issue was not about my writing; it was about me. I did not believe my stories mattered because I did not believe my voice mattered. It was not time to give up writing; it was time to give up the limiting beliefs that told me I was not enough and were holding me back.
Writing my way back
When I created new beliefs that I was worthy of sharing my own story and that my writing was an important vehicle for me to connect to myself and others, words started to flow onto the page. Soon, I began sending my work out and, to my surprise, my personal essays about parenting were published in outlets including BuzzFeed, the Los Angeles Times, the Washington Post, and later The New York Times. Readers emailed me and shared that they were having the same experiences and they related to my stories. I had believed I was “not enough” but that was not true. When I started believing in my value, writing led me back to myself and much more.
How to tell your story
I created Heart. Soul. Pen. women’s writing workshops to counter this insidious doubt that stops so many women from writing and sharing their truths. Too often, women show up at Heart. Soul. Pen. writing workshops with a story burning inside of them that wants to come out. They are carrying a narrative that defines them and that only they can share, and yet they confess that they do not believe they are ‘enough’ to tell their story — not talented enough or young enough or important enough or with the right degrees or experience or background.
They do not feel worthy of writing what wants to be written from deep within their hearts and souls. I call these burning words your radical self-expression. Unleashing it will not only change your writing, it will change your life. But one of the first things we need to do when establishing a writing practice is clear out our limiting beliefs. Otherwise, writing feels too difficult, and we end up giving up.
The following contains excerpts from Robin Finn’s new book Heart. Soul. Pen.: Find Your Voice on the Page and in Your Life.
The myth of the mundane
At a recent writing workshop, a women raised her hand to share her writing. When I called on her, she told the group that she did not want to read her piece out loud because she said, “It’s so mundane.” With gentle encouragement, she shared a piece about caregiving for her husband who was newly diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. She wrote about how she sometimes did not feel like caregiving, and how difficult it was to care for him and herself, and how hard and painful it was to adjust to a new life with his illness. Not only was the writing not mundane, but it was brave, important, poignant, and relatable to anyone who has ever cared for a loved one with an illness. Her piece was filled with grief, truth, loss, and hope.
As a teacher, I find this happens all the time — women tell me they have nothing “important” to say and then, when encouraged, share writing full of so much longing, loss, joy, pain, and yearning that it takes my breath away. When I ask the class, “Was this uninteresting?” they laugh. It seems funny to ask the question because it is so obvious that the writing has illuminated some important aspect of being human and that the writer has boldly shared it with us. The bottom line is that we are moved by each other’s authentic self-expression. In our highly curated social media world, people are hungry for truth. But we cannot get to the truth when we judge it as not enough.
I could say that I do not know where women get the message that they are not enough or that their writing does not have value. But that would be a lie. As a woman, of course I do. Women get the message that they are not enough or that their words or self-expression are not important from just about everywhere. We are told to be pleasant. To not be bossy, loud, or make other people feel uncomfortable. We are told to be sunny, to smile, to be positive and reassuring.
We are told not to talk about the excruciating nature of motherhood, midlife, menopause, mental health, sexual violence, sexual desire, or anything that is not “pretty.” And, when we become a mother or get older or hit midlife or go gray (or silver), then we really should be quiet since “we are not in our prime” (as if someone else gets to determine when we are in our prime). Add to this the misbeliefs placed on young girls that they should not be demanding, or too talkative, or take up too much space, or else they are not “good.” These beliefs can stick to us for years, decades even.
Limiting beliefs about writing and worthiness
Shame is a powerful barrier to self-expression. I wanted to write and express myself, but there was so much judgment holding me back. So, I sat down and investigated my beliefs. I focused on my beliefs about writing and worthiness.
This was my step-by-step process:
1. I examined my beliefs about writing and worthiness by writing down each belief. Mine looked like this:
Only young, hip people have something to say.
I am too old to write.
It is too late.
My writing is embarrassing.
The topics I am writing about are boring.
No one will care about what I am writing.
I am not a good writer.
I should stop trying.
If I keep writing, everyone will see I am not good enough.
I missed my chance.
2. I reviewed each belief according to two main questions:
Does this belief support my goal to write, express myself, unleash my radical self-expression?
Does this belief make me feel good — is it uplifting?
3. If the answer to both questions was “yes,” I kept the belief. If the answer to either question in whole or in part was “no,” I revised or released it.
4. I created new beliefs that supported my goal to write and express myself. Here were my beliefs when I finished:
I write because I feel called.
I am naturally creative.
Writing is an adventure.
I am curious about what words will emerge.
I give myself permission to write what is true for me.
I am worthy of hearing and expressing myself.
I am safe.
I am allowed to be seen.
It is enough to show up and write.
I am enough.
Now is the perfect time.
I have compassion for myself.
5. For months, I repeated my new beliefs daily, made them the screen saver on my phone, reread them before I went to bed and when I woke up.
Getting rid of my limiting beliefs about writing, about myself as a writer, and about my own worthiness gave me the sense of relief I experienced when I used the same approach to parenting. But, like before, it also took time to fully embrace these new beliefs. Still, I felt calmer, more inspired, and even excited. I felt ready to begin a fresh writing adventure.
How to revise and release limiting reliefs
Let’s go through the process of reviewing your beliefs about writing, identifying the beliefs that don’t serve your goals, and revising or releasing them so that the beliefs you actively hold support the goals you want to achieve.
1. Write down your beliefs about writing and self-expression and worthiness.
2. Review each belief according to two questions:
• Does this belief support my goal to write, express myself, unleash my radical self-expression?
• Does this belief make me feel good—is it uplifting?
3. If the answer to both questions is “yes,” keep the belief. If the answer to either question in whole or in part is “no,” revise it or release it.
4. Create new beliefs that support your writing, your worthiness, and your radical self-expression.
5. Write them down and review them. Do they support your goals? If not, go back to #4. If so, go on to #6.
6. Repeat your new beliefs daily. Read them once in the morning and once at night at a minimum.
We may not initially believe our new, more supportive beliefs. That is okay. The more we repeat the new beliefs and anchor to them, the more comfortable we will feel. It takes time. That is why it is called a “practice.” We have to practice every day until our new beliefs become ingrained within us as part of our identity.