My fear of blogging fear of blogging

When I first started sharing my thoughts on my then pregnancy blog, one of the comments I got was ‘I never realised you were…human’I was considered anti-social all through school. Not the amicable colleague. Stuck-up and withdrawn. An ice queen. In actuality dead shy, highly introverted, overly sensitive, scared and extremely self-critical. These are things that are still a challenge to this day. 

I fear I can’t keep up. This blog, as much I love it, feeds that fear. The fear that it’s not good enough. That I’m not good enough. Not interesting enough. Content, pictures, every and anything never seem good enough. There is so much out there to see and be inspired by, so beautifully curated that it is perfection. Each picture, each title, each subject, planned, chosen and framed meticulously. Blogging as my voice and yet I find my voice getting softer and softer. Trying to achieve what, I’m not sure. Perfection maybe?  Blogging was my way of being me without fear. I fear judgement and rejection.
Blogging was speaking in anonymity. Totally unaware of the vast scale. Of key words. Of templates. Of followers. Of hashtags. Then I realised it’s huge. Stylish, trendy, avante garde folks, in every creative field. And there are rules to being a good blogger. All the rules, guidelines and tips come back to being perfect. The idea of perfection holds me in awe at the same time it hits my deepest fear of not being me. If I had to choose a niche, curate each post, each picture, each thought, keep an active account on every form of social media, then maybe? Perfection?
I blog at the same time I feel a growing fear of blogging, of being an uninteresting ugly voice in a sea of perfection. I fear blogging because I feel incapable of perfection and of wanting it. Those fears, that scary bar. Am I alone? Am I pressuring myself or is it real, the expectation? And why do I care so damn much? I can’t say I have an answer to any of the questions. I don’t. I can only say my fear of blogging is not greater than my desire to be me.

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