I think a lot about blogging, because I’m geeky like that. For a long time, I told myself I wouldn’t write about blogging because it was redundant. Like, “Hello, I’m a blogger who writes about blogging on a blog.” However, I’ve realized something–a lot of creative people experience what I do with blogging. They have the same hopes, dreams and fears. OK, mostly we all share the same fears. Is what I’m doing good enough? Is it different enough? Am I happy? Why am I doing this at all? Does any of this matter?
Any platform that makes creativity public brings these questions. It’s so easy to get obsessed with numbers. How many followers did I get? How many people are reading my posts? And it gets more complicated when you start thinking about money. Let’s not talk about money.
I started writing online in 2001 on LiveJournal. Yes, I’m one of those weird people who still has LiveJournal. It’s just me and George R.R. Martin left. I digress. I started writing online before there was this whole idea of everything lasting forever on the Internet. It was before Craigslist killers and anonymous forums. It felt like this very new, vulnerable and creative space.
I started this blog back in 2010 because I wanted to talk about clothes and few people my life cared about clothes. I’ve written about the good things–getting married, traveling and my mom. I’ve mostly avoided delving into the harder things–divorce, the desire to stay home and other complicated issues. It’s really easy to talk about the good things. Because usually they’re pretty. They’re photo ops, but they’re not day-to-day life.
Growing up my younger sister never let anyone in her room. Specifically, she didn’t let me in. I wondered what she did in there all day. It was fascinating that she had her own little world filled with creative things like sewing, painting and general coolness. I wanted to be part of it.
Now I’m like that a lot with my own world, with both the pretty things and the hard things. Especially with the hard things.
I know sharing about the hard things would help me. I know it would help others. Yet it’s also hard to metaphorically push myself to jump. To just believe things will be OK. I worry a lot about if a future employer might read my blog and think, “Wow, she’s divorced? She’s politically liberal? Let’s not hire her!” I’ve been with the same company for four years and started my own business, so I guess I must be doing something right. Yet I still worry.
I’m putting this all out there to push myself to be more open here. If you’ve met me in person, you know I’m an open book. It’s just hard to do that here because, you know, it’s forever. Apparently.