A few days ago, I sent an email to this list of subscribers proclaiming that I was going to disable comments, and possibly move my blog to a different platform.
The feedback I received gave me pause.
I had two meaningful women point out some blind spots I had in regard to my proclamation and have spent the past few days figuring out where I want to land and how to move forward.
The truth is, I’m just a human trying to follow my dream of being a writer, and I have no idea what I’m doing.
When one of my readers pointed out that Substack feels like a place where writers actually have a soul, and that any form of social media is a tool that can be used in any way we want—my eyes opened a little.
A blind spot was revealed.
A different reader helped me realize that all I really want to do is help women find purpose and share the lessons that the garden teaches me—and this can’t be done if I hide away.
Another blind spot detected.
Both comments helped me see the situation a bit more clearly, but clarity comes at a cost. And in my case, the cost was the pain I experienced while accepting that maybe I was wrong.
I agree with both points made by the smart and truthful women who gave me feedback, and also felt shame in not having seen these truths in the first place.
The truth is—I often feel shame when I unearth a behavior pattern of thought process I couldn’t see before. It’s like I want to know everything and never make a mistake.
It’s how I felt this season in the garden when my broccoli plants only grew leaves and no heads—what did I miss? I thought I was doing everything right.
To me, realizing I don’t have all the answers feels raw and vulnerable.
I suspect this feeling I am having is why people get stuck in their lives; growing is not for the faint of heart.
Growth is relentless; constantly showing me where I need to expand and how to face yet another fear.
Fears make me want to run and hide until I have the strength to see them for what they are—a weed needing to be plucked from the soil.
Every day that passes the weed gets bigger, damaging the health of the garden.
So, I’ve decided to pull this weed and be vulnerable with you.
I want you to know that the only intention I have with this blog is to interpret the lessons I learn in the garden to inspire you to grow with purpose.
I am going to make all of my writing free to the public, and soon I will start teaching my philosophy, “12 Phases in a Season of Growth.” I have been working in this idea for more that two years and will begin that series soon.
The part that is going to be subscription-based will be the ability to respond to me via email, commenting on posts and the homework I provide as supplemental activities to the 12 Phases in a Season of Growth.
I have decided to structure things this way because I know with certainty that it is my calling to help women grow into their organic, truest selves through my writing, and I want to make my teaching available for anyone, anywhere.
I thank you for being patient with me as I navigate trusting myself (and my intuition) to share my ideas with the world in a vulnerable way.
I hope that by sharing my struggles, it makes you feel a little more seen and understood.
Growth is hard, and accepting the truth in what you once could not see is all part of personal progress and expansion, despite how much it hurts.
To pulling those fears like weeds-
Ashley