This is probably my third attempt at blogging, and I think it is going pretty well. And not because 34 whole people have viewed my site, or because a couple of posts have had more than 10 ‘likes’. No, it’s going well because I am enjoying it. I am enjoying sitting down and writing little anecdotes and musings about feeling anxious, about my fairly average (but for me, wonderful) world, and about life as I know it. I get to be creative with words and ideas. I get to get things off my chest. I get to be a writer. But now, I am faced with a dilemma: do I tell my family and friends about my blog? Do I post my posts via Facebook? Or do I continue to frequent this little bubble of my own, where I feel comfortable and safe?
You might ask why I wouldn’t share it? For one thing, sharing it doesn’t automatically result in anyone reading it anyway. And sharing it would allow people I care about to take a little peek into something I am proud of, irrespective of whether or not it’s written remotely well.I mean I’m not proud of it because it’s good; I’m proud of it because it makes me feel good. What would be so wrong with inviting people have a little look?
Well, you see, there is a niggle of doubt; the voice in the back of my head is scared. It’s scared because not everyone, even in my immediate family, has any idea what I am like sometimes. I’m scared because Mental Health seems a very in vogue thing to talk about online, but not in the real world. I don’t know if I’ve got the balls to deal with the potential fall out of ‘outing myself’.
My family and friends are not a judgemental bunch. I don’t imagine them being anything other than supportive, but I don’t feel ready to let them in on this. My husband reads my posts occasionally – when I make him – and supports me. I’ve shared that I intend to enter National Novel Writing Month in America. I’ve not shared that intend to tell the story of a husband supporting his wife with mental health issues. I block. I freeze. And I don’t know why.
I guess I have answered my own question. I’m only ready for the people who stumble across me to know what’s going on in my writing and my world. I’d like to find a way, one day, to be a bit more comfortable wearing these writing gloves and share my inconsequential chatter.