Vulnerability
There’s something about blogging — the bit of it which intersects with journaling, I suppose — which is very intimate. This is me, a blog says, my opinions, my obsessions, my worries and humor. It occured to me yesterday, and I sort of wish it hadn’t, that blogging leaves me way way open and although it’s not always clear to the world at large, I’m not all that comfortable being open. There’s a lot that normally gets tucked well away, safely inside where warm, soft layers of enculturation keep my baby-self safe from potential rejection.
In my children-centered universe of school runs, train tracks, surrealism and snacks, this is one of my strongest extrusions into an adult space. I constantly have to tamp down the fear that having had children, and having lived in their world for this long time, that I have lost my mind, and not in a fun Iris Murdoch way but in a soggy cornflakes kind of way. Mostly, I can hide that my wits are not razor (ha!) sharp with a few knowing looks, a raised eyebrow or two, perhaps one pithy comment and a lot of silence. Not here. This is me talking uninterrupted and without the possibility that the increasingly glazed look on someone’s face will shut me up in time.
Point is, I have suddenly become scared of the blog. Scared that if I put all these little pieces of me out there, that someone might hate them. Or just be bored. Or indifferent. I know I oughtn’t care. I know that. But I do, no matter how cool and adult it would be to not care. And I write this post not to invite reassurance, but to try and un-scare myself. I need to keep writing here. And I need not to be scared.
Blogging – It beats the hell out of therapy, don’ it. An’ it’s cheaper. Hey, you can take the hunert an’twenty bucks a week and lay on the bourbon real thick. Just a thought. OR, you can use it to snarf up a bucket fulla Starbucks’ black n’harry.
Cheers.
I have always been impressed by how noticing you are about your own life, how you find so much to write about. And how open you are. I find myself really stuck with my blog, as it is unfortunately and necessarily PG because it is read by my mother and my mother’s friends and the people who go to my church. So I am reluctant to really share. Thank you for sharing (and I’m not being obnoxious or ironic in saying that.)
Oh, and btw, THANK YOU for the yarn for Interim House. They were floored, overwhelmed. They loved it.
I relate to your insecurity… so much so that when I read this sentence:
“This is me talking uninterrupted and without the possibility that the increasingly glazed look on someone’s face will shut me up in time.”
I was worried that you had that glazed indifferent look on your face reading my last post and that is what made you write this one! Ha ha. As soon as the thought entered my head I reminded myself that the world doesn’t revolve around me and that I need to not be a psycho and just take it easy.
It’s scary posting intimate details of your life/emotions/self and imagining people not caring or thinking it’s stupid.
If it rewards and serves us in some way, we just have to feel the fear and do it anyway.
I think it helps to remind yourself what courage feels like. It feels like fear.
Fear not. Your stuff is good and insightful. I know more about knitting than I ever thought I wanted to (how’s my sweater coming?–and did you see the piece in the Economist about you yarnies?) and I’ve not been bored. Furthermore, while some might disagree with you, won’t no one accuse you of being soggy cornflakes. Write on.
I would not have suspected that you’d feel this way, from the witty and sarcastic manner in which you write – which is wonderful and interesting, btw. I worry in the exact same way about how I blog, but the truth is, some people’s eyes will glaze over, and some people will be annoyed or angry – because we cannot please everyone at once, nor should we try. Keep writing. Please.
The great thing about reading someone’s blog is that if something is getting boring, you can always skim, or skip. No need for a glazed look. (Which is not to say that I ever skim or skip on yours!)
But then, and this is maybe just my fear and not something inherent to blogging, or life online in general, maybe getting the glazed look every now and again keeps us on track. It’s great to know Who You Are and have the courage of your convictions without outside approval, but I personally worry that I’m ranting and no one is telling me because I’m just in the computer and they don’t have to…
I enjoys enjoy your insight and humour!
I’m also insecure about my own blogging. I always wonder, if I don’t get any comments does that mean that people don’t like what I have written??? Maybe they think I’m insane.
I visit a bunch of blogs and I usually click on yours first.
Hey Celtic Knitter,
I have visited your site a few times, and I haven’t commented. I like what you write, I just wasn’t sure if I had anything noteworthy to say… (just FYI)
I visit here most days and am always entertained or mad thoughtful by what I find. I salute your bravery in being so up front. In the end, it depends who you are blogging for – yourself or an anonymous public. Sometimes you need a f’ck ‘em attitude – the one you had when you were 17 years old and wore that silly hat down the High Street.