We all have in life and blogging, the endless concerns for other’s perceptions of us. These could be from the people we know, and care for or the snap judgements of a complete stranger to whom we’ve unconsciously worked tirelessly to please.
knowing blogging as an empty space where you’re on your own, brings such pleasure, to doing it. There’s no one to please, no standard to tell yourself to meet, no one to create for but yourself.
Doing out of love, creating out of love and not stress or angst. Just love.
How many things have we said and done, or more accurately avoided saying and doing over our everlasting concern of other people’s misjudgements.
I know I do this all the time.
No one wants to be judged.
I’ve been finding it hard to blog about my life for this fact alone, and to be truthful, who really wants to read a blog which once was about love and happiness, to now a blog of heartache and sadness.
The fire in me was crushed, and I think I’ve finally come to the conclusion why. I am broken, broken beyond repair.
Maybe also because I wouldn’t let myself be, telling myself, I’m not good enough, I can’t write, I can’t express myself.
This quickly turned into the thief of my fire, I am judging myself as other have and still do, I was, and still am, constantly comparing myself, we are all guilty of this.
Life has made us this way, sadly.
To tell myself over and over that maybe I can write, I know would not only be arrogant, but a bold faced lie. I’m no writer, I know I’m not, but I am the only me I know, I have passion and heart and hopefully this shows.
I am the only person I know who thinks, and try’s to blog the way I do.
I’m unique, because I’m just me and I write things the way I feel them.
But I do worry about how other’s perceived what I write, I worry about the judgements of friends and family who read my pages of love pain life and learning, and the complete strangers that stumble across it everyday. I worried about the snap judgements of the talented who may stumble across this space and maybe laugh at my blogging.
But I’ve come to realise, doing what I love, what helps me to open up, isn’t a glorious path. It’s a street riddled with pot holes, self-doubt, judgement and obnoxious people.
But because it’s mine, it’s worth the tears, every single one.