I had spent almost 2 hours on this particular graphic, tweaking the colors and text and contrast to be just perfect. Clicked “Download Now” and nothing happened. I waited. Checked my downloads history in case I missed it. Nothing there (besides a couple of hilarious pictures of dog memes, but that’s not relevant to this story).
I checked my stand alone downloads folder. Nada. Searched by file name. Zip. Rapid fire clicked the button again 100x in frantic hope. Zilch.
I refreshed the website where I’d spent precious nighttime hours not sleeping on this image.
It deleted my work and opened a brand new, horrifyingly blank image.
A pillow to my mouth muffled my frustrated screech so I wouldn’t wake up the husband sawing logs next to me or the littles in the rooms across the hall.
It was perfect. It was gone. What good was the equally carefully crafted blog post without a pinnable image? I’d worked for 15 minutes just on researching a relevant long-tail keyword string!
What good was my effort if the result wasn’t perfect?
And just like that, I realized that in the last few months, I’ve fallen victim to the #1 enemy of this site. The entire reason that I created this blog.
Not being enough.
It was time to take a step back. Not even a week after my best performing posts to date, I had to hit pause.
My heart, my passion has been from the beginning to uplift women. To tell the mamas that find this site that you are valuable and capable of contributing to the Kingdom right where and who you are! Flaws, warts, random facial hairs that were NOT there when we were 16, and all.
But the very vehicle that I chose for that mission, my megaphone, turned right around and became another outlet for my paralyzingly perfectionist tendencies.
You’re not going to find a perfect Pinterest image on this post.
If it take more than 15 minutes, you may not find an image at all!
Because I have taken the time off to recommit to sharing my heart even when it’s imperfect.
Even when my message isn’t classed up by the perfect combination of text and graphic.
Even when it’s messy. Or hard. Or reveals something that I’d rather keep secret.
Because for me to convince you that You Are Enough,
I have to believe it too.
Grace will be spoken here.
It won’t be perfect.
It may get messy.
It probably won’t run on a schedule.
It will likely look nothing like the zillions of “How to Blog” tutorials that I’ve gorged myself on since April, resulting in terrible information overload and lots of half done techy projects that don’t actually support my message at all.
But it will be real. It will be honest. It will be vulnerable.
It will look like my life. And your life.
And it will hopefully be funny.
I took two months to speak grace to myself.
Take some time today to sneak a little for yourself.