Why Blogging Scares Me

That’s right. I said it.

Blogging scares me.

This blog, this place that was created to be a bright and shiny window to my deepest, innermost thoughts, was born almost a month ago. And I have yet to make and publish* one single post.

*publish being the key word. I’ve written thousands in my head.**

**only slightly exaggerated.

It’s not that I haven’t been laughing. Or loving. And Lord knows I’ve been eating. Life has still been happening here. And it has been (mostly) wonderful.I am 100% sure that this severe-lack-of-posting funk has nothing whatsoever to do with me having nothing to say, but rather everything to do with the irrational, unexplainable, cold sweat/makes-me-want-to-puke/sudden-loss-of-brain-funtion inducing fear that I am met with each and every time I put my fingers to the keys.

After spending a few weeks believing that I was clinically insane and needed to be medicated (heavily), I finally realized that I am terrified of you. Yes, you, dearest potential reader(s). Not in a “people scare me” kind of way, but more so of the idea that you will come, you will read, you will see the truest form of me, you will leave, and.you.will.not.care.

Yup. That’s it.

The “not caring” is what has me stuck like a stick in mud. I can barely stand the thought that nobody is going to care about anything that means everything to me. The questions that have been rolling around in my mind and driving me mad is, Why should you care? What about the ramblings of a senior citizen teenager with the soul of an eighty-seven year old woman would ever posses you to keep reading for a single moment longer? Much less return for seconds and thirds?*

*fourths and fifths seemed gluttonous

In the end, it was agonizing. Let me repeat a-g-o-n-i-z-i-n-g. Warring internally with myself, trying to figure out how in the world I was going to present myself as this humorous, glamorous, and any other fantastical words that ended in -ous, human being. The answer I came up with, today as it happens, is simple.

I’m not. I won’t. I can’t.

My life is not a pre-written, pre-arranged script that can be drafted and edited and formatted to “fit” a certain genre or reach a particular group of people. Do I want to reach people? Yes. Do I want people to find a small corner of happiness when they visit this blog? Absolutely. Am I willing to lie, to puff myself or my life up to make those things happen? No, absolutely. I have promised never to feed you crap food, I will never feed you crap about who I really am, and what my life is really like. No, It is not always beautiful and chocolate covered, but, my hope is that it is that rawness, that feeling of being able to relate, that brings you back for one more bite.

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