We’ve probably all looked at ourselves at some point with the realization that we are our own harshest critic — perhaps with the exception of the narcissists among us. But then, this blog probably isn’t the best smelling flower on the vine for them anyway.

Lately, that thought’s been circling my mind. It started something like this:

I’m feeling really kind these days. I want to share that with others.
What’s a good way to do that?
Oh, I know! I’ll start a blog.

That’ll be easy — everyone does it.

Oh wow. This is hard. But everyone does it.
I thought I was smarter than this. Even people who aren’t very smart can do it.
What’s wrong with me?

That’s kind of the big circle of critical thinking about myself.
Or more accurately, the big circle of unkindness.

Then I had a couple of small successes.
I actually got a few posts written! I even had a like before I went public.
I don’t know how that happened, but it did — like magic.

This wasn’t going to be so hard after all!
My earlier fears were just tiredness and long days and the overwhelming thought of how much stuff goes into an actual blog.
But I could do this.

Oh geez.
I can’t even set up a menu.
I don’t know how to put a post on the right page.
I have two pages called the same thing, and one of them just says Page Not Found.
I’ve lost one of my posts — it has to be here somewhere — and the self-recriminations come harsher and faster.

I hate the theme I picked. I don’t know how to fix it.
Even AI is quirking an eyebrow at me like I’m a lost cause.
ChatGPT talks down to me, pats me on the head, and says, “There, there, it will be all right.”
GROK just looks at me smugly, gives me a fifteen-point plan with sub-steps, and says, “Chop. Chop.”

“I can’t do this. I can’t do this. What was I thinking?”

I’m twirling now — like an ice skater in that final, breathtaking blur, when she goes from graceful spin to dizzying, faceless motion, the audience holding its breath.

But then…

But then it happens. We all stand and shout with her in joy as she comes to a stop amid a spray of ice and glory.
She shines for us — heaving chest, triumphant smile, cheeks aglow with the accomplishment born of countless hours, early mornings, bleeding feet, and a thousand unshed tears.
Every fall, every hidden fear, every quiet moment of doubt leads to a pinnacle — this one single moment when everything stands still and the world stops moving to acknowledge… her.

I have to remember: the spinning stops.
Likes and follows may not be tossed my way like roses on the ice, especially after only a few weeks and a half-broken site.

And this post isn’t a plea for pity — it’s a reminder to myself.
Kindness includes me, too.

This blog will come together eventually. I’ll get it organized and working the way I want. The likes, follows, and “atta girls” will come — but those were never the real goal anyway. Measuring my worth by them, or by my own harsh criticism, just keeps me spinning in circles. It’s time to let the ice settle and simply enjoy the glide.

After all, being kind starts at home — and that includes me.