Chapter 1: The Tapping Intruder

What could that noise be? I wondered, walking around the house to find its source. After confirming my daughters weren't up to any DIY projects with hammers, I paused at the kitchen window. There, I spotted a striking bird, its blue and brown feathers catching my eye. Leaning closer, I was captivated as it flew away only to return and peck at the glass. I had discovered the source of the tapping.

My children and I chuckled as the bird continued this quirky behavior—pecking, flying off, and coming back for more. My daughters affectionately named it Blippi, showcasing their creativity.

I couldn't help but think about how amused they’d be until they noticed the mess Blippi was leaving behind on their slide. My husband remarked that the bird “wasn't the brightest” and mused that it might think its reflection was a rival.

Eventually, the excitement faded, and my family went about their day. My husband headed off to “fix things” in the barn—a phrase I suspect translates to binge-watching shows on the outdoor channel while on his tractor—while my daughters debated the meaning of “belicious.”

I remained at the window, pondering my husband’s comment about Blippi's futile battle with his own reflection. Here was this bird, exhausting every ounce of energy trying to conquer a foe that existed only in its mind. Despite my presence, it was relentless, its sole aim to defeat what it saw as its enemy, oblivious to the fact that it was battling itself.

As I observed Blippi's relentless pecking, I felt a pang of sadness—not just for the bird likely bruising its head and scratching my new window but for the realization that I, too, was caught in a similar cycle, albeit in a more subtle form than hurling myself against glass.

Lately, I’ve been grappling with resistance in my writing journey. I could blame it on moving into a new home, the chaos of unpacking, or the search for clean clothes, but those are merely excuses. When inspiration strikes, nothing can hold me back; ideas surge within me until I have to write them down.

Yet, of late, every time I open my laptop, a voice in my head insists my work isn’t good enough and that I should aim lower. That internal critic echoes the angry little bird, telling me I’ll never be a published author.

Each piece I share brings a wave of anxiety. It feels like baring my soul for others to critique. How can I complete a book when I’ve poured everything into it, only to fear it might not measure up?

As my daughters giggled at Blippi’s antics, I realized I was no different. If anything, I was worse—at least the bird was oblivious to the fact that it was waging war on itself. I was fully conscious of my struggle against my own thoughts.

After hours of futile pecking, Blippi's companion arrived to offer some advice. “It’s not worth it, buddy. Just fly south and chill in the birdbath.” (In my imagination, his friend speaks like Ronnie from Jersey Shore.)

Finally, Blippi made one last determined peck at its reflection and then soared off with its friend. I pondered whether it thought it had triumphed or not.

My novel might not be great. It might never see the light of day, and the past year and a half could end up as a project gathering dust. I had anticipated this reality before embarking on my writing journey, but it didn’t deter me.

The endless stream of excuses for why I can’t write is nothing but self-sabotage. Battling my own thoughts will only lead to fatigue and hinder my passion. I recognize this truth, but I sometimes require a reminder—even if it comes in the form of an irate bird.

Chapter 2: Choosing to Rise Above

I'm done living like Blippi—angry and waging war on myself until I’m burned out. After explaining to my eldest why a screwdriver isn’t suitable for a toddler's bedtime companion and checking my youngest’s closet for imaginary alligators for the umpteenth time, I’m opening my laptop and choosing to silence my inner angry bird.

I understand I must persist. I need to write and resist the urge to let negativity win this internal conflict. I can do this.

Life is too fleeting to act like an angry bird. I’m opting for positivity and self-acceptance, which is far better than banging my head against my kitchen window and making a mess on my children’s playset.