Men + Myself + God

Tag: blogging

Someone Is Going to Love This Blogger (#31writenow #nablopomo)

by P. Braithwaite

I told him. I told my oldest male friend about my break up with The Besticle. I told him about how we broke up, how I blogged about it, and how that mother fu my ex called me up to complain about my blogging.

Then I cringed. And waited. On some level I knew my
Homeboy wouldn’t take my side. And…….on some level, when I wrote my break up post, I knew I was probably crossing a line.

My oldest male friend smiled. He’s known me since I was fifteen — well enough and long enough to truly understand that disagreeing with me is like disarming a time bomb. The red wire stops everything, the green one causes destruction. The right words can stop me in my tracks…

Or wait, is it the other way around?

“Honestly,” he started. “Homie has a point.”

THAT….was the absolute wrong wire…

“I’m just saying, when you write about your life,” he tilted away from me. “You’re going to face the fact that men may meet you and know more about you than you want them to know. And your boyfriend’s boys will know things about you too…”

I shrugged him off and then obsessed over his warning.

One of my biggest gifts from attending BlogHer ’13 — beyond branding advice, social media tips, the CVS swag bag and new friends — is unequivocal evidence that bloggers like me, the ones who talk too much, have deep and loving relationships.

Translation: Someone…somewhere…is going love this blogger.

Some man somewhere will be smart enough and wise enough to actually marry me. Perhaps I haven’t met him, but he will somehow understand my compulsive and incessant storytelling. He’ll be acquiescent to my need to tell the truth — my truths, my strange uncomfortable truths — and he will know that’s part of what makes me…me.

Somebody amazing is going love this blogger. And that someone will be a very lucky guy.

I met and experienced so many fearless bloggers. I met women who wrote about things that actually made me blush — their changing bodies, their battle with raising children. I met women who wrote about touching their husband’s balls. I met folks who shared stories of addictions, transitions, poverty and shame…

I, who write about therapy and poop, thought: I wonder what her spouse thinks of all this?

Somebody somewhere is going to love this blogger. But he’s going to need an epic sense of humor.

As I sat captivated by beautiful and vulnerable prose…I was comforted by the universal need for storytellers to tell their truths, and the way those truths land on foreign ears to provide laughter and healing for folks who thought they were alone.

So today, I pray for the people who love the bloggers — the people who love poets, painters, musicians, novelists and journalists too — I pray for the folks who help the bloggers live the stories they eventually write. You are beautiful and brave and stronger than you know.

Thank you for loving writers who write to love themselves.

Thank you for giving us permission.

And so it is.

#31writenow #nablopomo

Why You MIGHT not be Living Your Dream

by P. Braithwaite

When I went to Puerto Rico, I was excited to facilitate a coaching session on the beach.

“I’m going to coach on the beach and LITERALLY live my dream.”

I said this to anyone who would listen. I was super obnoxious about it. I even reached out to a few clients and asked them if, in an attempt to help me live my dream, they’d be willing to comply.

One of my clients was nice enough to oblige and so I went to Puerto with every intention of living my dream.

And I did live my dream. Only I realized that coaching on the beach isn’t my dream at all.

I’d rather sit on the beach, drink and get brown.

Here’s what DID happened: We arrived at the resort around 4 am. My travel companions were tired so they turned in. I, however, have the energy of a small child, and when they shut their door, I tip tied over to the balcony and slid open the glass door. I took a seat facing the water and listened. I was enthralled by the sounds of the coqui and I could almost hear the sun sliding into its place among the clouds. I sat on the balcony, my feet tucked underneath me, like a little kid waiting for Santa to arrive.

The sunrise in Puerto Rico was breathtaking.

Around 4:30, I realized I didn’t have a blog ready for the next day, and so I grabbed my phone and started typing. I sat in front of the ocean, waited for the day, and I wrote. I wrote a blog about the importance of seeing beauty clearly. I wrote about feeling ugly, while being surrounded by natural beauty. I was delirious and my typos were abundant, but I wrote as the sun rose. The sun and I wrote together. I wrote my little heart out; the only thing I truly love to do.

And when I was done, I went inside, closed the curtain and went to sleep.

Sometimes, if we’re not making headway on our dreams, it’s not because we’re lazy or scared or blocked. Sometimes we’ve simply confused our dreams with a good idea. Coaching on the beach was a vreat idea, but there’s a distinct difference between a dream and a good idea. While good ideas may sound awesome, make you smile and even bring you prestige, your dream is something a bit more magical. It beckons to your heart from some place deep in your soul.

A dream is a manifestation of the universe. I believe it’s what you’re put here to do.

It’s the thing you do EVEN when you don’t have to. It’s the compulsion that you’ve tried to quit but can’t. The dream is the thing you stay up doing at 5am while the stuff you SHOULD be doing goes untended. Dreams always have more “wants” in them than “shoulds.” Most dreams don’t have any shoulds at all.

Your dream is your lover. You know, the one that you’ve tried to stay away from but you can’t. The one who lights you up and makes you abandon all things sensible. It is the activity you sneak in between life — it’s what you chose to do when you’re in your favorite place (FYI…beaches are my favorite place).

This blog, and the writing that I do here, is the love of my life. And, though it might seem silly, every time I get to see or hear or feel something amazing, I yearn to write it down share with all of you. My dream is to live my life and go where The Universe guides me, and learn hard lessons, so I can share them with folks who feel alone. Every post, on some level, is a way for me to live my dreams. My hope is that my reach continues to grow.

Writing a blog in Puerto Rico, inspired by the sunrise…was a dream I didn’t even know I had. Coaching on the beach? A great idea!

So, if you are wondering what your dream is, look for the things you do that you don’t have to. Look in the direction of your wants. Examine the quiet pleasures you savor when no one’s watching. Look at the things you discuss while your friend’s eyes glaze over (“did you read my blog?”.

Your dream might not be what you say it is, but I assure you — it’s waiting for you to claim it.

What’s your dream?

#Writegirlproblems: On Blogger’s Block

by P. Braithwaite

Blogger’s Block:
A psychological condition whereby a blogger has no trouble drafting, organizing or formatting blog posts, but is unable to actually publish any of what she writes. Symptoms include: hyper-critical thoughts, obsessive editing, self-pity, over-analysis, paranoia, and shame. “After her breakup, Patia Linda had blogger’s block; she was unable to publish her feelings on the web.”

This sucks.

I’m writing this blog post on the fly. I’ve got three blog posts in the can that don’t want to be published.

They don’t want to live.
It’s not my fault.

This morning, I tried to publish a post I’ve been agonizing over. I took deep breaths, said some prayers, and hit the “publish immediately” button on my phone. I waited. I checked my inbox. I even tried again.

Sometimes the universe intervenes.

So today, I choose to be at peace with my process. I will take this as a sign that I’m not ready to share. I have a right to write and share at my own pace. I’ll be slow and gentle with myself. I ‘keep it real,’ but sometimes I need some time. Every emotion and every project has a birthdate of its own — while discipline is necessary, compassion is tantamount. Sometimes the feelings need a little time to settle, and the work needs a moment to mature. I must be sweet and easy with my small creative blockage. I’ll trust, when I’m truly ready, I’ll hit send.


Have you ever experienced blogger’s block?