We all have those wounds.
You know the ones. The hurts that have never quite healed.
Maybe because the work of healing is hard. (It is.)
Maybe because we thought we’d moved past them.
Maybe because we’ve learned to function around them.
There are all sorts of maybes, but that’s a post for another day.
The problem is those old wounds don’t stay buried forever.
Sometimes something happens, and suddenly they’re wide open again. Once they are open, all the doubt, fear, insecurities, and old messages come flooding back.
You aren’t good enough.
Who do you think you are?
I thought you could, but I guess you can’t.
You’re too much.
You know the voices.
I had one of those moments this week.
Something happened that had nothing to do with my writing, but my brain didn’t seem to care. Within minutes, it had connected every hurt I’d ever carried into one painful conclusion.
“Hey, Kaydawn… did you forget? You’re a loser.”
It’s amazing how quickly a dysregulated nervous system can turn one painful moment into a life sentence.
My thoughts went everywhere.
Why would anyone want to read something you’ve written?
You’re not an expert.
Your friends are only reading your blog because they’re being nice.
You’ll never write a book.
So I decided I wasn’t going to write anymore.
What’s the point?
I took a couple of days to breathe before answering that question.
Then I realized I had been asking the wrong one.
The point isn’t to prove that I’m talented enough.
The point isn’t to become an expert.
The point isn’t to write a perfect blog.
The point is connection.
When I started But First, a Nap, I thought I’d mostly write about ADHD, procrastination, and the many creative ways I avoid doing the dishes.
Somewhere along the way, it became something bigger.
I still hope people read it. I’d love to build a following someday.
But more than that, I want to build a community.
A place for people who are trying their best, most of the time.
People whose feelings get hurt.
People who make mistakes.
People who say the wrong thing.
People who sometimes believe the worst about themselves.
Not toxic positivity.
Not endless misery.
Just a reminder that we’re not doing this alone.
And maybe that’s what communities are for.
Not because they take our hurt away.
Because they remind us we don’t have to carry it alone.
Maybe that is another lesson I’m learning.
Not every day has to be productive.
Not every day has to be meaningful.
Not every day has to be joyful.
Not every day has to be devastating.
Sometimes Tuesday hurts.
Sometimes Thursday is great.
And sometimes Wednesday just… is.
Maybe that’s what life really looks like.
Some days are great.
Some days hurt.
Some days just are.
The hurt doesn’t get the final word.
Feel the hurt.
Keep moving.
If this post made your heart feel a little lighter, would you share it with someone who might need it today? Sometimes hope finds us through a friend. 💙
But first a nap 