Afraid to Write

I'm afraid to write.
There, I've said it. Its not true all the time, only just recently. I don't know how many times in the last month I've pulled up my Blogger Dash to start at new post, only to write a sentence, then delete everything and walk away, just because I'm afraid of not getting it right.
Isn't that the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard? To be afraid of the thing you most love to do? I fear not doing my thoughts justice... so much that I don't even try. That goes from being fear to laziness. I know that if I start the process of trying to get my thoughts out, It'll take time; it'll be hard; it might even hurt. Sometimes just ignoring the thoughts that are poking at my brain, begging to be scribbled out, and taking a nap is an easier (and more practical, considering the amount of sleep I get these days) option. But I don't want the easy life if it means ignoring a God-gift. When I write--and finally start to tie up loose ends in my brain--I feel alive. Writing Names me. It makes me more particularly the particular me I was meant to be.

The problem is, I read--(recently L'Engle, Woolf and Charlotte Bronte)--and am inspired and discouraged all at once. I ran across this quote on Goodreads which expresses the first half of my feelings:
“The best moments in reading are when you come across something - a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things - which you had thought special and particular to you. And now, here it is, set down by someone else, a person you have never met, someone even who is long dead. And it is as if a hand has come out, and taken yours” --Alan Bennett
 When I happen upon these moments in reading I'm elated sometimes to the point of wanting to get up and dance about the room.. Out comes the journal to write down that significant passage, or I might break the silence in a study room to share my epiphanal joy and read it aloud. But this elation is soon followed by the despairing thought of, "Great, someone else has already expressed what I couldn't express in terms far better than I could ever imagine." I want to give up. I wonder why I even try.
What I have to remember, is that I have to be me. ME. I will never be L'Engle or Woolf (I don't even know how to use a semi-colon properly half of the time) nor should I want to be. I'm Sarah Peden; I need to be the best me I can possibly be. And that means getting over my fears of imperfection, pushing through the hard times, and writing till I feel fully alive. After all, "the glory of God is man fully alive," and for what other purpose was I put on earth, than to bring God glory?

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