The One Where I Doubt Myself as a Blogger, a Writer and a Person | Life Love and Hiccups: The One Where I Doubt Myself as a Blogger, a Writer and a Person
Life Love and HiccupsLife Love and HiccupsLife Love and HiccupsLife Love and HiccupsLife Love and Hiccups />

Tuesday, 19 November 2013

The One Where I Doubt Myself as a Blogger, a Writer and a Person

Pin It

If I had the opportunity to start over again with my blog there are a few things I would do differently, one being I would perhaps consider more seriously the concept of anonymity. 

What started out as a blog that was created accidentally out of one too many vodkas, fast became a place that I came to to talk about the things that go through my mind. I never entertained for a moment that someone may actually read this blog, and so I blogged as me, about me and about my family and the thoughts and things that make me who I am.


Sometime those things are simple and uncomplicated like home wares and crafts and other fluffy happy stuff. And then sometimes they are far more complex like worries and fears and stuff I am dealing with as a wife, a mother or as a friend or school mum. 


I talk frankly and openly here about my emotions. I write about things with the same passion that I am feeling them at that exact moment that I write them, and that is totally intentional as my aim is to always be open and honest about both the good and the bad that life puts on your plate. 


I don't generally air my dirty laundry here. I don't come here to rant about my husband.... Except for the fact that he once brought me a meat slicer for Christmas because let's face it, who the frig buys their spouse a flipping meat slicer? 


That one was fair game and he knew it. 

I don't use this blog as a weapon to cause harm, I don't talk specifically about people that I have issues with as that wouldn't be fair, this is my backyard and not somewhere that they can freely defend themselves.  Although I do however make exception for the woman who stole my self service checkout at Woolies, because well quite frankly she was an obnoxious twat and I have no empathy for her. 


My blog is not a place where malice or vindictiveness is welcome, it is not a base where I hide behind a wall and throw stones at people who have pissed me off. It is purely and simply a place where I talk about the things in my life that have a profound effect on me, things that I love, things that I am passionate about and things that I often lose sleep over and that consume my every breath.


What I didn't realise is that so many people I actually know in real life read this and what I didn't really spend long enough considering is that when I write about something that has happened to me or my family that it may lead to speculation or cause people to wonder could it be them that I am talking about. 


Recently I wrote a post that was not so much about any children or parents involved, but more about an unexpected pit stop in my journey as a mother in dealing with something that was new to me and how I handled it differently to how I always thought I would. 


It was about me looking at the situation from both sides of the fence, as a mother of a child who clearly inherited my anxious genes and a mother of other children who have not yet learned how to harness raw passion. 

The post was simply a raw recount of how all those mixed emotions came bubbling to the surface and never EVER was it intended to be anything more.

Unfortunately I didn't think it through enough or consider the speculation or worry it could cause from those who know me and were left wondering if I had an issue with them or their child and oh my God that Guts me and I am so so sorry for that.


That is my mistake, I own that one and it is a lesson well learned. Oh and just in case you decide to look for the post I am referring to, it's gone. I took it down before it could cause any more pain to anyone.

I am so not someone who would ever intentionally causes drama or hurt. That is so not who I am or what I am about and I am gutted to think that anyone ANYONE could ever feel the need to question that about me. 


I avoid drama and politics like it's gonna give me leprosy and I don't feel I could be any more honest or open in my thoughts and emotions than I am on here or if I am speaking to you in person. 

To me a spade is not a fork, it's a freaking spade and you and I both know it so let's just call it exactly what it is. I apply that to everything in my life and to every situation. I believe that life is too short, too precious to be afraid to speak from your heart and if there is something I need to talk to someone about I do that. I talk.


It is one of the very simple principles I live by and something that my husband and I as parents work very hard to teach our own kids. We also teach them to live openly, and live whole heartedly, be kind and be gentle and if they choose to wear their heart on their sleeve, then they need to wear it proud. 

The type of blogger that I am - a personal blogger, comes with a double edged sword. You commit to talking about things as openly and honestly as you possibly can, knowing full well that not everyone is going to agree with what you say, share your opinion or that people just simply may not like what you have to say. 


But despite knowing all this, I chose to open my heart for the world to see, doing so because as a compulsive worrier myself, it helps me to read about those types of things and to know that thank heavens someone else worries or wastes thoughts on the same ridiculous stuff that I do. I want other women to have that aha moment where they realise it is normal to feel that way or worry about something or other and I stand by my intention with every ounce of conviction I have in my short and some what stocky little body.


So that brings me to the cross road I find myself standing at today. I am like a kid with stage fright now I know that more people than I ever expected actually are reading what I say. Both people that know me and who I am as well as people who don't really know me and could doubt what I am about.


Do I continue to be open and honest and talk about the stuff that someone would talk about if they thought no one was reading, or do I stick to safe subjects about pretty felt balls and colourful cushions?


Do I shut this whole freaking side show down and turn up somewhere else under a pseudonym where I can safely go to town on any subject my heart desires?


Or do I continue to speak about the things I need to speak about at that particular moment, things that I feel are important to me as a writer who has committed to sharing openly with my readers, but be more aware and more cautious and careful in future. 


Do I ask that those who know me in real life and who choose to read my blog, to accept it for what it is - someone you just happen to know who also happens to be just an ordinary woman, a mother, a daughter, a wife, a friend and a writer who sometimes writes far too honestly about the things she is feeling? Someone who is so ridiculously far from perfect that there will be times she will inevitably Fuck it up, but has no problem with putting her hand on her heart and saying I'm sorry. 

How does a non anonymous writer find the balance between being open and the fear of causing any hurt to anyone?


It is 2:25 am as I write this and sleep is absolutely nowhere in sight. By the time this post is actually published I would have read it and re-read it at least a dozen times, questioned myself, chickened out, grown some balls and then chickened out again before finally hitting publish. And as you read this, I will be sitting somewhere still questioning whether I have done the right thing in even writing this at all.

But this IS life, and this is the sort of stuff I am referring to when I promised to keep it real and honest here and I welcome your feedback as a reader or as another blogger / writer who may have dealt with this yourself. 


And so I hand it over to you - what are your thoughts?