“It was funny, thought Chopra, how, in a city of twenty million, where it was virtually impossible to enjoy a moment of privacy, his fellow citizens so often managed to see absolutely nothing.” (Vaseem Khan)
o be honest, I’ve got no idea how to explain the following well, because it’s something I still can’t really place or understand. I’m hoping somebody reading this might be able to recognise how I feel and has a better way of explaining it. This isn’t something I can figure out in the space of a few minutes, and I feel it’s very much connected to my intimacy issues, which is a deep-rooted problem that will take a long time to address… so I’ll probably be revisiting this topic a few times over the lifetime of this blog.
When I’m at my best (as I’d say I am at the time of writing), I seem to constantly exist in a state of confidence, and yet when I do something as a result of that confidence, I feel extreme fear at what the consequences might be.
I am more than comfortable sharing the results of my creativity, or things that I consider the components of the real me, with absolute strangers from all corners of the world, but I’m always incredibly embarrassed to show friends and family i.e. people who are in constant contact with me and know me pretty intimately. People who won’t be going away at any time soon. People who aren’t anonymous passing faces.
I suppose because with strangers, if my work is criticised/rejected, I can just brush it off/accept & improve without taking it personally.
So I mean, when I was designing this blog and setting everything up, it was all cool and amazing, no biggie. I imagined my words being read by strangers. I loved the idea of blog-me being disconnected from me. A fresh start. (I’m always looking for fresh starts when nothing has ever actually called for one.) Everything was exciting; remaking my twitter, making a Facebook page, etc. I was incredibly confident.
Making this blog public & posting the post that came before this one was fine, too. It was when I wanted to invite friends to like the Facebook page that awoke the anxiety anxiety ANXIETY. Goblin Elsa came out.
Are you sure you want to do this? Are you sure you’re confident this is the right thing to do? Do you want your friends to read this blog? Don’t you think they’ll judge you really badly if you do this? Worse… maybe they’ll PITY you? Or feel SORRY FOR YOU? The logo you thought would be really cute… it’s actually silly, isn’t it? Aren’t you acting a bit up-yourself by doing this? You’re really affecting the image you’ve got going on right now. Oh my GOD, what if you offend somebody with what you’ve written? Are you CRAZY? Rewrite it all! Or better yet, DELETE EVERYTHING. SCRATCH THE WHOLE THING. STOP.
I hovered over the invite buttons for a while. But, even as the Goblin voice overwhelmed me… I started inviting anyway. Inside, I was on full-alert-heart-pounding mode, so as soon as I did a whole batch of invites I put my phone away and to be honest I haven’t checked Facebook since. Even at the time of writing. (I’ll check after I finish writing this… Because seriously, what’s the worst that could happen?)
This blog is incredibly personal. It’s me. I’m dissecting my inner thoughts and feelings in the most public way possible – my own website. And it had to be my own website, because at the end of the day, the focus of this project is not fame or fortune… it’s a way to make me comfortable at the prospect of being incredibly uncomfortable. Things that I once thought were a bit pretentious – having your own brand name, talking to an audience and a readership – I’m doing it all now because I know I need to do so if I ever want to progress. I need to do this because it’s the only way I’ll ever be comfortable with fulfilling the act of just… being me.
Simply put, this blog is my worst nightmare realised. This is my un-comfort zone. It’s possible nobody will read it, and God forbid, it’s also possible that EVERYONE will read it. And the words I’ve written could easily be used as weapons against me. I’m trusting YOU, specifically, to catch me in my trust fall, to cushion me with the very palms of your hands and not close your fists. As a person with major trust and intimacy issues… this practise in vulnerability is the medicine I have chosen to take.
I think one of the major problems here is as much as I don’t want to admit it, and as much as I’d like to appear the opposite, I’m so reliant on what other people think of me. Wayyyyy less so now than I was before, but I think this is why I always censored this side of me/stopped myself from expressing myself in the ways I’ve always wanted to around the people who matter to me the most – the possibility of being an outcast, the possibility of rejection from people I admire, scares me to the very core.
So it’s always been me to reject. Always. I reject before the possibility of me being rejected might even arise. It’s a very, very vicious circle.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; it’s irrational. People do know me in the way that I’ve convinced myself they don’t. People read this blog and know that this part of me that has always existed. I’ve been messaged, told that what I’ve written so far is brilliant, and that should be enough. That should be more than enough. But I think I’m waiting for the possibility of rejection. As much as I always find the positives in things, I’m also very negative – I think I’m waiting for somebody close to me to criticise this blog, and me, and my writing. But I don’t know why I want this to happen, because even if it’s criticised, I’m not going to stop. I want to do this, and I’m stubborn, so this will continue until I’ve decided I don’t want to this anymore. Part of me explains this by saying that I just enjoy thriving off any bit of attention I can get, but then again, the other part of me knows that’s not true either.
None of this really makes sense to me right now, but I know that it will, as long as I stay true to myself and continue to do what I want to do. This is a journey of self-discovery, after all.