In a Land Far Away, I Used to Write…

Many, many years ago, in a land far, far, away, I used to write.

Now I’m not saying that I was any good at writing, or that I had the potential to make anything out of my writing.  But I did it, I wrote things, I even shared those things very selectively, and I did it, the writing thing, a lot.

Stories and books are always the ultimate friend.  An escape mechanism that allows one to feel anything they choose to feel, to be anyone they choose to be, and best of all for this hyperactive person, they allow my mind to be still and quiet.

Writing has always been the pressure release valve to my stress.  My fingers have always done a much better job at working through feelings than my voice can ever imagine.  Until I remember there’s people out there…

I used to blog regularly.  I even had a few posts featured on BlogHer, and Cafemom way back in time when facebook was much smaller.  But the conflict of my self confidence and the need to please would make me stumble until the point where I’d run and hide.  I’d delete blog post after blog post, worrying about not being good enough.  Or being me enough.  Or causing too much drama, or not enough drama.  Then what if my family saw it, and then judged me.  Or what if so and so saw it… Or what if someone thought I thought I was much better than I really was.  <—- And so I stopped.

Why do we do this to ourselves?  My inner self judge has watched one too many seasons of Simon on American Idol, and has perfected making me feel like an utter loser.  Yet even knowing this, that it’s just words, just a fun thing to do and share and has no effect on the universe… doesn’t make the scary feelings more fluffy.

I have an actual pile locked away in my file cabinets of fictional novels that I wrote for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month, is a challenge with mega support in November to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days… I might even have that count wrong, it’s been years since I participated).

So why am I sharing all of this now?  I really have no idea, as I’m already feeling silly sharing these words, and my random thoughts… but I can’t not share them.  I miss my old blogs, and my old stories, and the feeling of when you get that message that someone wants to share your words.  Quite frankly, I miss that praise.  I also miss the release of letting the words out, the feelings out.  I don’t miss the what if’s that immediately flood my head the second after I type a word.  And how do we ever know that the self doubt isn’t a red flag that you’re doing the wrong thing?

There’s an episode on Star Trek, Next Gen, yes I watch Star Trek, where they find a human colony hidden away.  The colony genetically engineers each person there to fulfill a certain task.  So you’re born being a scientist, or a musician, or what have you.  The crew from the Enterprise is all “Dude, that’s horrible, there’s fun in the trying things out, and trying to figure life out!”  And I’m all over here going, “Send me!  I want to know exactly what it is I’m supposed to be doing with my life.”

And maybe it’s just society these days with the ultimate pressure to not tick people off, or do the wrong thing, and to always be social media ready…  Maybe there’s just to much pressure to be more than you.

Or maybe I’m just not ready to accept my own limits and boundaries.  After all I still have plans of being the president, a rock star, a big cats behaviorist, photographer, artist, and a physical therapist for horses.

So here we are, one more attempt at putting myself and these rambling thoughts out into the universe.

How about you?  Do you have a thing that you’re way too hard on yourself about, that makes you stop doing that thing, even though you really enjoy it?