Permission to speak

Can I be honest with you? I mean really honest...the don't-read-back-over-it-after-I'm-done-writing-this-or-I'd-end-up-never-posting-it kind of honest?  I think I heard a nod all the way from Leslie in Africa, so I'm going to take that as a general consensus. :) Thanks.

Whether it be through blogs, facebook, or some other media outlet...I've found myself feeling a bit..."intimidated" isn't even a strong enough word..."inadequate", maybe...to speak.  To write.  I look at people's lives, their pictures, read their stories...experts in the field, whether that be in decorating, photography, fashion, cooking, or life.  I can mistake what was meant for inspiration and instead, I set it as a mental road mark, that once I've hit their level of expertise, I'll have something worth sharing.

I keep waiting for my life, my business, my images, all to be perfect so I can get the nod that what I've got to say means something.  That I've got a success story to share with you.  I want a 10 step power point on a "how to" do life successfully.  I don't have that story or the power point.  Instead, I've got a lot of mistakes along the way, things I wouldn't do again, rejections, learning to develop a tough skin, and in-between those, you see the pictures I post.

I guess I feel caught somewhere between those who wonder why I write because I know so little and those who mistake edited pictures for a life full of glamour and perfect lighting.  The one side keeps me from speaking...the other side keeps me from being genuine.  I don't know which is more difficult.  But like most everyone...I live somewhere far in the middle.

I'm convinced that people like Mark Zuckerberg and Oprah Winfrey made their billions on the very idea of giving people the permission to speak.  No matter who you are.  Some do it very little. Others? With reckless abandon.  I often find myself staring at a blank Blogger post...wondering what to write.  In my mind, I see a busy world...and by hitting that first stroke on the keyboard, I'm tapping on my figurative podium.  As people click into my blog, I hear the room silence as people turn to look who tapped...and there I stand and here I sit.  Looking for the permission to speak.  On what?  I know very little and am an expert at nothing.  I look around for that nod...and I get it from those who like me, aren't perfect.  Who are doing life with scars in their past, mistakes in their day, and a need for great grace to do better.   I write to those who would rather live with wrinkles and stretch marks because of the experience that brought them than to be without.

I love you, my dear readers, my clients...my friends.  Not because we share perfection...but because you let me both laugh and cry through this blog.  The only vantage point I know to write from is my own.  I'll share what I know and tell you when I don't have a clue as to the answer.  So whether you've been a faithful commenter, shyly "confess" to being a secret reader of my blog, whether you're male or female, we've met or are still going to meet some day...thank you so very much, from the very bottom of my heart, for giving me that permission to share my life with yours.

My love.
Tami