I have always enjoyed writing.
It comes easily to me as a form of self expression.
But putting it out there for anyone to actually read is another thing.
Any Facebook friend of mine might think that is a weird thing for me to say.
Because I write long posts, often filled with emotion, and nice photos to team with the theme.
And I find it hard to keep myself “concise” once I get going on something that matters to me.
I used Facebook as a blog substitute for years, and it was quite satisfying.
Some people teased me about my long posts.
But plenty of others would say encouraging things to me about how they loved reading my posts. They would say I “inspired” them.
This should have given me confidence to go to the next level of writing a “real” blog.
But it didn’t.
I really wanted to write a blog.
But I couldn’t.
I struggled for years and years to give birth to this little wardrobe where I hang my posts.
And I could not figure out why.
What was stopping me from doing something I knew I really wanted to do?
I tried telling friends I was going to do it, thinking if I said it out loud then I would have to make myself do it.
But that didn’t work. I could always say I was “too busy” if anyone asked me.
And as it turns out, not many people asked when I was starting my blog. Other people don’t really care if you do or don’t do something.
When I discovered EFT, and got comfortable using it on myself, I decided to make a physical challenge out of this to see if it could help unleash my inner writer.
And I told myself if tapping could get me writing a blog, then I would write about tapping.
Because that would be a major achievement for me, and it would prove to me how powerful it is.
But also because I love tapping, and it’s easiest to write about something you are genuinely passionate about.
I wanted other people to learn about all the different ways tapping can help, and this seemed like a good way.
To start with, I tapped a lot on the fear I knew was there.
“What if no one read what I wrote?”Did that mean I was putting in all this time and effort for nothing?
I had already decided I didn’t care about that.
I was essentially doing this for myself.
I wanted to write because it’s part of who I am.
But it was not just that fear.
There was another fear.
“What if anyone actually read what I wrote?”.
Isn’t that a funny thing.
To want to write something for people to read, but to be afraid that people might actually read what you write?
I realised I was very concerned about what people would think.
I was worried some people in my life would be envious, or resent me for doing this.
What if it was a “success”? Whatever that means.
What if it was a “failure”? Whatever that means.
Both possibilities were intimidating to me.
Imagining what people would be saying to themselves in their heads and writing it all down on my glass wardrobe doors was very revealing.
It went like this:
Here she goes again. Who does she think she is?
What makes her think anyone is going to read what she writes?
Who cares what she thinks about anything? She’s so full of herself.
I tell you there were some mean girls in my head. And they had a lot of power.
But I tapped them all out, those limiting self beliefs and fears.
And still, no progress. Or slow, painful progress.
So I knew there was something deeper at play, and that tapping would help me find it.
I decided to take a mental health day (it was driving me mental) and to sit in my tapping room until I got to the bottom of it.
It took a number of attempts for me to find the memories which were really holding me back.
And as usual I was kind of surprised about what was there.
I started with the frustration that this was something I wanted to do, and yet I could not seem to make myself do it.
It was irritating, annoying. Embarrassing.
All this talk about writing a blog, and no actual action.
I am a “doer”, and I usually do what I say I am going to do.
But I could not get this done.
What came up next was interesting.
I had a memory of the time I wrote a children’s book, and I got my oldest daughter to do the drawings for it. She was about nine at the time, and is a very talented artist like my mum. So the drawings were lovely.
My book was called “Your Job Is You” and it was aimed at encouraging children to look after themselves, to help them tune in to themselves emotionally, to care about how they feel.
To not focus on their parents’ struggles, and bullying, the opinions of friends.
I was studying the Law of Attraction at the time, and the idea of the book was to try to teach people from an early age that if you keep yourself happy, life will flow well for you.
The book felt kind of divinely inspired, as I was in a very good headspace when I wrote it.
Feeling confident and happy.
During my tapping session, I recalled a specific memory of the day I showed my book to my mum. (We are always looking for “specifics” in tapping).
It was what I thought of as the final draft of my book, and I was pretty proud of it.
I handed it to mum nervously, and I can remember it was like time stood still.
She was looking through the pages, and made a few comments about how lovely the pictures were.
But apart from that she said very little. It was so weird.
My mum was usually so encouraging of my creative pursuits, so I was stunned at this lack of response.
I remembered staring at the colours in my house, my green walls…..and feeling really hurt and confused.
Why isn’t she saying nice things? I was used to her saying nice things.
I got the courage to ask her what she thought of my book. And I think she said something like “it’s a good start”.
A “good start” I thought to myself?
This is the final draft. I have many colour photocopies, they cost a fortune!
What am I going to do with this if mum thinks it’s rubbish?
The actual memory is a bit cloudy now, but the feeling is not.
I felt like mum did not think my writing was good enough.
I was devastated.
It must not be good if mum isn’t saying good things.
I trusted her judgement more than anyone else’s.
It was a feeling of shock at being let down by mum, which I was very unaccustomed to.
My mum almost never let me down.
We were very close. Very similar in our interests.
She was an “always there for you” kind of mum.
But something else was going on that day for her I guess.
I felt a feeling of resentment coming from her, which I was confused about at the time.
But I think it was because my mum also wanted to write, and had found it hard to make the time with four kids.
It would have been much harder back then I reckon, no computers or internet to learn from. No self publishing options or social media.
Mum probably struggled to believe in herself as a writer and had all of the same doubts and fears which I have used tapping to help me get rid of.
I remember chatting to her about “The Artists Way”; a book by Julia Cameron on how creative people sabotage themselves, and how to break through that.
So I know she had those struggles. And I understand better now.
But back then I didn’t. I was upset, and angry.
And I shut my inner writer down.
I put my book away in a box and never got it out again.
I went back to being busy with my three kids and I forgot about it.
Until this day in my tapping room.
The emotion that came up felt like a tidal wave.It was overwhelming.
I had certainly stumbled on something significant here.
I just went with it and tapped all the way through. Crying and sobbing, until I felt peaceful.
And then something beautiful happened.
My mum spoke to me.
She sent me thoughts and I could feel her presence.
She said she was really sorry about that day. And that she loved my book.
She had no idea that her response had shut me down.
She was going through something herself around her own creativity, and my book did trigger some resentment in her. But she didn’t know that I felt it, and she never meant for that to happen.
Anyway, she said she wanted me to write, because she wished she had done more writing herself. Of course she wanted to encourage me.
She said we could do it together. And she would help me.
It was so touching, like a warm spiritual hug.
And not long after that day, I began not only to write, but to hit the “Publish” button.
And I have hardly looked back.
It was resolved.
Tapping helped me access the memory inside which was preventing me from writing, and unblocked all that stale energy.
Replacing it with fresh energy, inspiration, motivation and action.
And I am so grateful.
My mum died over six years ago.
When going through her things months after, we found all of this stuff she had written, and probably never shown anyone. Beautiful writing.
Packed away in dusty boxes. Such a shame.Well that’s not going to happen to me. Thanks to tapping.