It is only now, seven months into motherhood, that I have begun to discover who I really am and who I want to be. I started paying more attention to my self talk recently, and I’m surprised at what each observation session unearths. It turns out, though, that the only one doubting my qualifications and questioning my worth was me.
Six years ago, I wanted to start a personal blog. And I did. Kind of. The Gold of Her Laughter features a curated collection of aesthetically-pleasing posts, with just a few personal diary entries sprinkled in. I didn’t think my thoughts, my feelings, could belong there. I didn’t think my life, my musings, deserved to be shared. I didn’t think my being, my self, was pretty enough for anyone to want to read. So, all this time, I’ve kept my distance – afraid of what everyone would think if I opened up too much.
But just the other day, I reached the tipping point when I confessed my desire to start a personal blog (a real one) to my husband. “I actually do want to connect with others, and I want them to connect with me.” I started to cry. And I don’t cry often. (I’m still working through how to express my emotions without feeling like I’m hopelessly weak.) But as I went to speak my heart’s truth, something even stranger happened. My jaw began to stiffen. I could feel it locking in an attempt to silence my voice and stuff it back down again. And it was in that moment that I knew I had a choice to make: suffer in self-imposed isolation or dare to speak my mind. I think you know which option won out.
I’m still wrestling with those pesky doubts that swirl anew every time I sit down to write. “Who needs another mom blogger?” “Who would even care to get to know you?” “What makes you think you could even pull this off?” They all squeal in near-perfect unison. The truth is: I don’t really know. But I’m no longer allowing these imaginary naysayers to keep me from putting myself out there.
So, here I am. My name is Maris Young, and I hope you find Young Honest Mother to be a community of women navigating the transition to motherhood, spare no detail.
I’ve waited so long to meet you.