FEAR

“OMG! What am doing?!!”

“I want to do this project! I want to do this project?”

“I am telling people I started a blog. There needs to be something to read.”

“I have content to post – been writing for the better part of a year… plenty to share at least once a week. Post it, already, for G-d sake.”

“What am I waiting for?”

“Why am I stalling?” 

This was the internal barrage of questions looping in my head since first clicking Publish. I needed to stop, get real for a beat to listen to the chaotic noise of doubt stalling my pace of taking the next steps on this journey. I was getting scared. What was causing this fear?

Fear, a noun is defined by dictionary.com as 1) A distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid 2) a specific instance of or propensity for such a feeling. 

Or… as my therapist defined it: False Evidence Appearing Real. Underneath the euphoric afterglow of taking the leap of faith to self publish, the kick-in-the-gut, sweaty palm, nauseating waves of insecurity started. “It is not going to matter what it says, the page format isn’t just the way I want it. It doesn’t have whatever it is a blog needs…” on and on – it was not perfect. It got to such an extent I sent mini announcement texts to my Near & Dear that read something like, “I finally did it! It’s not pretty but it’s live.” Within minutes of bravely choosing to be vulnerable, I start to diminish the fulfillment felt in taking action on a dream by pointing out the weak spots before someone else had the chance to criticize or reject it. 

My worst fear was my writing sucks. Or was it that I suck. (Yikes!) Stop! That train does not get to enter the brain. Yes, critics will have their opinions. The harshest opinion will be the one I have of what I do. Really, the fact of the matter is I wanted to start a blog to create a channel to distribute my essays. It took a long time to get to the place to be ok with idea of being read. I equate it to mentally preparing yourself for letting someone else see you naked with the lights on. The potential rejection can be traumatic. 

It is also the Theodore Roosevelt’s Arena speech, paraphrased below by Brené Brown in her TED Talk, Listening to Shame: 
“It is not the critic who counts. It is not the man who sits and points out how the doer of deeds could have done things better and how he falls and stumbles. The credit goes to the man in the arena whose face is marred with dust and blood and sweat. But when he’s in the arena, at best, he wins, and at worst, he loses, but when he fails, when he loses, he does so daring greatly.”

Ms. Brown and I share the same sentiment on critics, that is to say, unless you are in the arena with me, I am not interested in your opinion. I can shred myself quite unfairly all on my own. The Near & Dear are front & center to give it to me straight. 

For now, the blog will remain imperfect in it’s formatting, I ask for you to be patient. More to read in the coming weeks – have no fear.