I published this little gem a couple of weeks ago and I’m still feeling v overwhelmed with the response it received – 43 likes and 31 response wuutttt?! But I’ll be honest, despite the efforts of trying to come to terms with sharing my blog with people I know, I’ve still been struggling. Around a week ago I was living with two writers. One of them has her own column in a Mexican magazine, the other is a published author who has just rounded up a book tour around Australia. Both of them, having never met, spent hours talking about their love for writing and I had the benefit of proof reading Julieta’s latest article. But despite being around two people who clearly love writing as much as I do, I never told them that I write little pieces every single day and publish them on the internet.
As much as I went on and on about being proud of our work as small bloggers and we should tell our friends and family about our work; nothing has really changed for me. Although there have been moments of ‘fuck it’, I’m still ~very~ much embarrassed about what I choose to do as a hobby. A few days ago I caught up with a friend who has recently moved from Manchester to Dorset, discovering that she has a blog too – as seen on her ‘website’ space on Instagram (I say caught up, I actually just stalked her Instagram). After a few reads and feeling incredibly envious that she’s also had published work at The Fashion Network, and then finding another friend also owns a blog too, I felt incredibly silly that I’ve been so reluctant to share my corner of the internet on a platform like Instagram when I’ve been writing frequently since 2016.
So after feeling inspired, I obviously bottled it. Scrolling through my blog I’m very proud of the content I’ve been producing recently, but there’s still part of me telling me to keep it a secret. I find it a lot easier sharing my inner thoughts and adventures with people on the internet than I do with people I know. A few weeks go Jack told me he’d been reading some of my posts (which he loved), and the word ‘SHIT’ came to mind. I began writing this around two weeks ago sat in bed with wet hair and chomping my way through a large milky bar, reaching the conclusion that I’ll never be ready to share my hobby because, well, I do find it slightly embarrassing. With a new love for images of me attempting to be au natural, a few heart felt posts preaching my love to Jack and a new post slagging off all of my former ‘pals’ – I don’t think it would be a good idea, do you?
I decided the more I share my blog with people I know, the less I’d post about my true feelzzz, I wouldn’t ~feel~ as free as I currently do, and I’d be more reluctant to write about certain thoughts on my mind. I wouldn’t be posing for pictures, if you can call it that, and I’d feel a wave of embarrassment every time somebody mentioned they’d read my most recent post. I’m absolutely not ashamed of my blog, in fact, as I have previously stated, I feel v proud of myself that I’ve managed to stick to something for so long (despite the breaks, I always come back). At University, writing 1000 words over a period of two months was v difficult – now I’m writing more words daily.
I guess it’s my own little thing and I’d hate for somebody to rain on my parade, or feel judged or laughed at for something I am so proud of. So even though I’ve previously challenged myself to be more open and to be less embarrassed about my blog, it’ll be a very long time until I feel fully confident in my work and to share it with those close to me. It also stood out to me that since publishing why is my blog so embarrassing? – so many other bloggers are also in the same boat.
And that’s alright…