Two years ago, I sat in my bedroom in our house in Cincinnati and started this blog. I had no idea what I was getting into, but I did know this:

  1. I wanted to write
  2. I was scared to death to do it
  3. I had a moment of courage and I capitalized on it.

I know this about myself: I get scared. Real scared. Almost paralyzed scared. Scared of judgment, scared of failure, and scared of what others will think. So scared that I won’t pursue what I want to do.

In my fear, I have moments of determination where my soldiers of courage open a door and tell me to run through it as fast as I can without looking back.

I know when that door opens I have to cross into it before the purveyors of self-doubt catch me and slam the door shut. Telling me there is no good on the other side. That their job is to keep me here – where it’s safe, warm, and predictable.

I am only limited by myself. The joy that has come from things unknown is immeasurable. There comes a point where playing it safe is far scarier than playing in the Arena.

“The cost of not following your heart, is spending the rest of your life wishing you had.” 

So two years ago, I ran through the open door.

When I got into the new room, I realized I had a lot to learn. As I explored, I kept bumping into two things: (1) the blog’s platform was limiting and (2) the name kept bothering me. I’d cringe when others said the name I chose on a whim. Despite the significance of my dear friend using it to describe my sometimes meandering thoughts, I did not like its application to my blog.

I wanted to fix these things, but I wasn’t sure how to do it. I read and read and read some more to figure it out. Then one day – I just did it.

For the last month, instead of writing, I’ve been creating a new site (and stalling on announcing the new site because – hey – see above about self-doubt).

The change is a product of growth – the blog’s and me personally. At the heart of my message is to stand by ourselves, who we are, and our authenticity. To not be ashamed of it, to embrace it, and be it.

In my heart, I felt that I was eroding that message and not fulling living it by standing behind a phrase, rather than with my name.

So I introduce Yes, I know I wrote this about using my whole name. But Libby Carl is easier to say and spell (if I had a penny for every time I said, “V as in Victor”…).  And I feel more and more like her everyday. (Don’t get me wrong, as recently as this week, I introduced myself as Libby Vish. Sorry, babe. One day I’ll have to reconcile my two names.)

Unless you’re moving to the mountains and downsizing to only one pair of shoes – this isn’t a simple life. Rather than striving for the unattainable standard of a simple life in our complex world, my goal remains to find connection and comfort in these full and active lives. To enjoy the good moments and be honest about the hard moments. Because none of us need the pressure of enjoying every moment, but it helps to find commonality and humor in all of it.

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