There’s something that I’ve learned about bloggers over the years:
We’re all a little insecure.
We want to be authentic, but we’re afraid of opening ourselves up because we’re afraid that someone’s going to take a stake to our heart.
We stop writing because we’re afraid that our writing is not good enough and then come groveling back because we can’t stand not writing anymore.
We try to rationalize our feelings, swinging from one branch of feeling to another, as if we need to justify to others why we aren’t writing. Or painting. Or creating in some way or another.
We go from writing too much, to not writing at all. And yet we still write.
We still write because we want to be heard. We want someone to tell us that we’re alright.
And we are alright. We are still here, you and I.
We are here together.
If you need to take a break, I’ll still be there. I didn’t come this far with you just to come this far. I will still read your writing even if you need some time off to focus on yourself. Because God knows we all need to boost our morale.
It’s okay to be uncertain. It’s okay to feel the way you’re feeling. I’ll waiting for you, for that next post. I followed you because you write quality, not quantity. You find the words to describe how I’m feeling in just a way.
I feel the insecurity. I’ll write and write and write. And then I’ll stop because I’m feeling insecure. I’ll then write and write and write about how insecure I’m feeling about my writing and obsess over why I’m not as good as any others. People actually have things to write about, I say, and then pull back. They travel, they cook, they get involved with their communities.
I just live an average life.
An ordinary life, you would say.
I wanted to show that living an ordinary life could be extraordinary. You didn’t need to travel extensively or cook fancy meals every day or be especially literary with fancy words. I wanted to show that a small, normal, ordinary life could be just as worthy as any other blogger, writer, x successful person.
And yet I got sucked into the belief that I need to be something in order to write about it. I needed to do things, be extraordinary. And yet–
And yet that was tiring.
It was boring. I’m not that sort of person to put myself out there underneath the spotlight all the time.
I am quiet. I can be weird around people that I most want to talk to. I get awkward. I’m by no means as confident as I make myself out to be.
And yet here I am…still writing. And people are still following.
Thank you for following me. And if you write a blog, thank you for writing. We’ll find our footing. We’ll get to the other side.
We’re in this together.
This is partially inspired by Chris Nicholas’ post “Epoch” which you can read here if you’re so inclined. Give him some love, he deserves it, I’ve never met a bad piece of writing from him.