Growing up, my future desires changed, just like any other child's would. What I was going to be when I grew up would shift from writer to actor to policeman to singer to graphic designer to history teacher to publisher to scientist to fireman, and on and on. But it has always come back to 'writer'.
I have always wanted to be a fiction writer. I have always loved words, how they can stimulate whatever response the writer wanted. One singular sentence can make the reader feel a ton of emotions ranging from sadness to anger to confusion. One page can make a reader invest in a character so deeply that they feel as if they're living vicariously through that character. One book can change a person's outlook on life.
And it all stems from the writers' imagination.
But what happens when you have a desire to do something, and the person you thought would be the most supportive in those aspirations was the one who essentially told you your dreams were hopeless?
I struggled with whether or not I wanted to bring this up, because I've been trying to forget about all that happened and move forward. But sometimes, in order to move forward, you have to acknowledge what happened in the past so you can let it go. And that's part of my motivation behind this post.
I began a manuscript for a book when I was a sophomore in high school. Honestly, at the time, I wanted to be published ASAP, because I was slightly jealous of Christopher Paolini (the author of Eragon), because he had been published before he turned 19. I wanted to beat that. That's probably not the best motivation for being published, but there it is.
Now, looking back, I realize that putting that much pressure on myself to be published before I turned 19 was completely destroying the story. I was writing just to get something written, in the hopes that it'd turn out good. I wasn't concerned with fine-tuning my craft.
So, I began that manuscript. And I finished it, edited it, finished that, edited it some more, finished that. And 19 came and went. And I wasn't published. My story wasn't even polished enough for an editor to look at. I had some work to do.
Then I met my ex, and I told her my aspirations. She was all for it, very supportive and encouraging. Until I asked her to read the story.
Let me pause here. If a writer, especially an unpublished writer, asks someone to read their manuscript, they're not asking for you to praise it as glorious or for you to critique it into the grave. They're asking for an honest opinion, because they trust your opinion.
Now, my ex was an avid reader. She could read 500 page books in a matter of days. My first clue that something was wrong was when it took her two weeks to read a chapter of my manuscript. Obviously, it was me and my writing. Right? It had to be.
Let's fast forward. Turns out, she thought it was absolute garbage. She had no desire to read it. It 'wasn't the genre she liked to read', so she 'couldn't get into it'. When I asked her to try it again, and just give me an opinion, she finally just said, "Babe... you're just not that great with words."
I. Was. Devastated.
Then she continued, "I mean, even in person you can't tell a story very well. You're not that great of a communicator."
Dreams. Crushed.
What was the point in trying to be a writer when it was evident that I had no talent for it? If my ex, whom I had been with for about 3 years at this time, thought I wasn't skilled enough to be a writer, then she must be right. I had asked for her honest opinion, and that's what she had given me.
For the next 3 years of our relationship, I barely picked up a pen and paper. I barely touched my manuscript. When I did, I'd get upset and develop writer's-block. I'd clam up, close my computer and pout. I'd rip up my previous attempts at writing, convincing myself that nothing I wrote was even close to being good.
When I would start a joke or begin to tell a story, I would say something along the lines of, "Babe, you're better at this than me. Why don't you tell it?"
One singular opinion had completed destroyed my dreams. In the year since she left, I have had to dig myself out of many holes that she had dug and thrown me in. Some of them, I had simply crawled into because I believed what she told me about myself. Instead of listening to myself and what I knew about myself, I let her opinions drag me down and wash away the truth.
But then I reconnected with my amazing, beautiful, loving best friend who turned into my wonderful, committed, Godly girlfriend. She has helped me pull myself out of those pits, fill them in, and leave them behind.
She's so encouraging when it comes to my writing, to the point where I started writing again. She was the motivation behind me starting this entire blog. I don't know how she knew, but I truly believe she knew I couldn't just dive back into writing stories - I had to begin small, by writing a blog post. I had to remind myself about the joy of writing.
After a couple months, I picked up my old manuscript that was 'absolute garbage', and have fine-tuned it. Without me even having to ask, she has requested to read it when I'm finished with it. She believed in my dreams even when I didn't, and is constantly helping me push myself towards fulfilling them.
Then just yesterday, I met with the pastor of my church in order to help organize an event. I was there with two girls from my small group to pass around ideas and figure something out. When we left, one of the girls texted me and said: "You did amazing! Thank you so much for leading this charge. God has blessed you with the gift of communicating!"
I almost started crying in my car. Those were words that I never thought I'd hear (or read, as the case was). This particular friend didn't know my struggles with my ex concerning my aspirations. She didn't know that my ex had told me that I was bad at communicating, and that for 4 years I had believed it.
She didn't know that that singular comment would bring me close to tears. Unknowingly, she helped me fill another hole that I didn't even know was still waiting for me to backslide into.
Through all of this, I hope you have gotten one thing out of it: don't let anybody - I don't care who they are or how you know them - don't let them tell you something negative about yourself. And above all, don't believe it.
My mom always taught me that the reason people say negative things towards others is because they're jealous of that particular trait.And I believe that wholeheartedly. Did I forget that for a season? Yes. Have I remembered that? Yes. Will I continue to remind myself of that when someone tells me something negative about myself? Most definitely.
I had to learn a hard lesson, which almost completely derailed my dreams. Don't let that happen. Don't follow in my footsteps in that - just learn from my mistake.
Find people who speak encouragement into you. Find people who believe in your dreams. Find people who, whether they know it or not, help you be a better you.
But above all, love and know yourself enough that when negative comments come your way, you know they're just someone's opinion. An opinion doesn't mean it's true.
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