"I'm not good enough."
If you feel the same, then why not join the Heart Leap Writing hour at 9am anyway and switch the light on again.
“The wound is the place where the light enters you.” Rumi
One of the questions we are exploring this month is this: what is one belief that keeps switching the light off, and what is one belief that could switch it back on?
For me, the light-switching-off belief is an old classic: I’m not good enough.
I know this is a strange thing to write but there is a strange comfort in an old belief, even a painful one, because at least we know the furniture, the exits, the smell of the carpet, the exact place where the doubt sits down beside us and starts making helpful little suggestions like, “Don’t try that,” “Who do you think you are?” and “Everyone else seems to know what they’re doing.”
But the problem with the belief “I’m not good enough” is that it does not protect us, even though it pretends to. It shrinks us. It makes us overwork, over-apologise, over-give, over-explain and under-receive. It makes us wait to feel ready before we begin, and then quietly moves the finish line every time we get close.
So perhaps the belief that switches the light back on is not some shiny affirmation we do not believe, but something more like:
I am allowed to begin before I feel ready.
I am allowed to be a work in progress.
I am allowed to want more, try again, take up space, make art, make mistakes, be loved, be seen, be here.
Maybe we do not have to blast the old belief away with a trumpet fanfare and a ceremonial burning of our past, although I am not ruling it out if snacks are provided.
Maybe we simply notice when the light goes off, pause, put our hand gently on the switch, and choose again.
Prompt:
What is one old belief that keeps switching the light off in your life, and what kinder, braver, truer belief could you practise switching on instead?
Want to create a writing practice? Come join us at Heart Leap.
If you’ve been meaning to write — your journal, your Substack, your book, your Big Beautiful Thing — but somehow always end up reorganising the fridge instead… welcome home.
At Heart Leap, I host four writing hours a week Monday to Thursday from 9–10am GMT. We chat for five minutes at the start, five at the end, and the rest of the time we simply write together. No pressure or performance, just a calm, friendly corner of the internet where pages get filled and ideas stop hiding.
If you need accountability, a regular rhythm, or a space where other writers are also muttering “why is this so hard?”, you’ll be in excellent company.
We also have a Writing Rehab class on the first Wednesday of the month (July 1st - put the date in your diary) and we run the 12 week Artist’s Way once a year.
If you want 2026 to be the year your writing life finally feels supported, fun and alive, subscribe for £7 a month and come write with us.
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