The new edge of soft discipline - by Catherine Andrews

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Happy Sunday, Soothers. As we go towards the winter solstice, and I wrap out a hell of a year (health issues, engaged AND married within six months, taking a sabbatical, trying to figure out where my work is leading me next, my nervous system being fried out knowing Trump will be our president again) I’m up against an old familiar friend/foe:

I’ve been writing on the internet in some form or another for about 30 years (WTF, btw). Much of that time were private blogs for friends, not aimed with the goal of professionalizing anything. I’ve been writing the Sunday Soother for… probably about 8 years now, if I had to guess. It too started as a hobby for friends and a writing practice for me; eventually became a little brand that could; and has been the cornerstone of my business for the last 5 years.

At first, even starting a weekly newsletter was a halting process. I was in what I’ve dubbed “creative recovery” — coming out of a hole of C-PTSD shame that stunted my writing and left me nervous and timid, unable to believe that what I had to write had any worth to it. I was in serious writers block for years, probably from my late 20s to mid 30s. The false starts were plenty, the doubt was deep.

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