In 2020 I did a thing.
I stumbled across a relatively new writing platform and was keen to sink my teeth into it.
I booked a 1:1 hour long zoom coaching call with the gorgeous (and very wise for her years) Sonia Bavistock and thrashed out my ideas.
I questioned my validity and value, Sonia gently cut through my crap with encouraging suggestions and gentle, but much needed, kicks in the butt.
I scribbled notes while nodding a lot, often perfecting my thinking pose.
At the end of the call I announced “I’m going to do it!” Much to Sonia’s delight! She earned her bickies on that call, the sweetheart.
So I got to work researching the platform in more depth.
I lost myself down many an internet rabbit hole surfacing with nuggets of gold from the generosity of others sharing their experience using the substack newsletter platform.
I was pumped! I Designed a logo, wrote the foundations and was ready to launch.
Then... crickets... nada... zilch.
Fear gripped me again (sorry Sonia).
The niggling itch of this idea however would not be eased by my medal worthy ignoring skills.
So here I am - showing up and scratching that itch buoyed by Sonia’s previous pep talk and a need for connection.
But here’s another thing!
The original path I mapped out for this project took a back seat. And that’s okay! Stuff happens. The idea was for it to become a paid subscription publication at some point down the track.
Instead, it became my way of staying connected to family and friends as we embarked on a six week stint away from home in the big city of Melbourne to access treatment for my husband Doug’s cancer diagnosis.
Sadly, Doug lost his battle three weeks into his treatment and a month to the day of my first ever e-posted newsletter.
These letters began with the intention of sharing the ride of Doug’s treatment journey through my eyes, along with any daily shenanigans we may have encountered. They have now morphed into letters to Doug where I chat to him about life in general and about finding dead stinky mice in his shed. That’s fun (insert eye roll).
Our Doug had faced so much adversity in his life living with crippling chronic illness that saw him wheelchair bound in his thirties and he met it head on with his infectious trademark humour and cheeky grin. As a result he left behind a legacy he could not have ever imagined possible.
Being of value in this world and giving something of himself to help others was important to Doug. Most often this would take the form of cheeky banter and laughing at himself to bring a smile to others.
So I’ll continue to show up here, scratching my writing itch, penning my letters to Doug. I hope they bring value and richness to the lives of others just as Doug did to all those who were fortunate enough to know and love him.
Sandra. Xx