Confessions of a Runaway Blogger: New Things Day 19

I'm taunted by my own button.
Hey, you know what happened this month? Life. Life happened. Which is kind of funny since I've been hiding from life since May. I peek at it around corners and slip out of the room quickly just as it arrives, but for the most part, I've avoided it. Let's face it, life can be rather scary, and sometimes when it gets weighty enough, it tips the balance so that I'd rather hide than experience the beauty of it at the risk of encountering the hard things. 
This week, it didn't have that many hard things, not really. But I'm so out of practice that I balked, floundered and then, finally, ran. I've written before how much I like to feel liked (and I'm not sorry about it) which means I can fall headlong into the giddy obsession of views and stats and graphs and readers and numbers.  And now there are TWO projects where I write and people read; my words are judged...personal stuff is all laid out there in the open for anyone who traipses along to see.  I used to tell myself that "I wrote for me" but I think that's just a silly little lie that many writers tell themselves to make the very act seem less ego-maniacal. I do write because putting things down on paper (or on a screen) makes sense of the jumble, because thoughts screaming in my head and jangling across my ear drums have to go somewhere or drive me insane, but...but..but BUT the fact of the matter is, I don't just write for me. If I did I'd tuck it away in a neat journal and no one would ever see it. But I don't - as is evidenced by the 427 journals I have started on New Year's Day never to see the light of day again. No, I definitely write for an audience, and I thrive on it. The response, the give and take, the acknowledgement that what I say doesn't just sound pretty, but sometimes it rings true.

I love it. I really love it.

But sometimes it backfires, when I over think what I assume people might want to hear, or when something I think is really profound only echoes silence. Then I question myself and flail at my ego and gnash my teeth..and finally, withdraw.  Because really, if you can't love what I have to offer than I just won't write.

I don't know where my children get their petulant streaks from, honestly.

But this is how I know that while I'll probably never stop wanting to feel liked, and I'll probably always purr a little when my ego is nicely stroked, I can change my weird, rather neurotic patterns and insecurities and actually settle into a more disciplined routine of word-smithing.  It's just this: I'm still sitting here writing this today after two days being mentally on the lamb.  I'm being more honest than I ought to be, but less "what I think people want to hear" driven than I was a few days ago.

That's a pretty big new thing for me.


Pattie said...

Why are we always so hard on ourselves for missing days in these challenges??? Why???????? (insert shark emoticon)

lakecrestgirl said...

I love reading what you write. Always.

heidi hennings said...

I also love to read what you write! I read all of them! I may not respond because I have such a hard time composing even the simplest of responses. (I erased and redid that sentence twice.) As you know, I also got slammed for posting on the Middle site so I have been hiding for a while licking my wounds.

Dana Portwood said...

ok I DON'T know about the problem at the Middle site...please message me and tell me what happened!
And thank you!

Dana Portwood said...

Thank you Cathy- overall I am very happy just to be writing. I just need to freak out about once a month, apparently.

Dana Portwood said...

ahahahahahahaha I love that you brought in the shark! Yes, why indeed?