...despite recent appearances to the contrary.
I certainly haven't forgotten about my blog. Indeed, it's been the elephant in the room of mind all this time since my last post. I haven't had any shortage of adventures or inspirations to blog about. Ideas for blog posts are still coming thick and fast. But they don't get through the minefield of my brain to see the light of day. It's not that I don't love my blog any more. On the contrary, I've missed blogging terribly, to be honest.
Obviously, I have a problem. What I have discovered recently, however, is a name for my problem. A nice, cute, modern little name that fits neatly into an online search box. It helps, when blogging about a topic, to have such a name for it. My problem is perfectionist paralysis. It's not a new thing in my life. Perfectionism has always been one of my more challenging personal neuroses. Blogging just gives me yet another platform on which to experience and observe this particular brand of emotional baggage.
I can never get a blog post quite right. There will always be something I should or shouldn't have mentioned in context, or the thought that I couldn't quite express in words clearly enough. Later, after I've published a post, I might think of a way that I could have improved it. I could, if I wanted to, edit a post. But I know the nature of perfectionism well enough to know that if I started on that road, it would never end. I wonder about the integrity of a blog that is regularly edited, and and I really don't want to go there.
The labels really drive me crazy. I understand that they're useful in navigating a blog, and that one day I'm going to need them myself. But I can never decide on the right labels for the things I'm talking about. I second-guess and go back and change them, but I can't clarify a system that works for me. It seems impossible to divide the experiences of life up into categories like that. Any one action or thought reverberates throughout all the dimensions of my life.
All these things only even get to be considered if they get through my even bigger problem - deciding what to blog about. I don't really have any idea who my audience is. It's not really one of my intentions to upset or offend people by blogging. But obviously, it's not something that one can avoid in the big bad world of the Internet. That scares me. It scares me to think that the things I write about here go out into the world and I can never get them back. The world might be a very different place at some point in the future. I can have no idea of the potential consequences of blogging about sensitive issues, the spiritual, religious, political, the deeply personal, no idea of the standards by which I might be judged by a yet-unimagined future society. One solution is to stick to blogging about the easy things that don't offend anyone - op shop treasures and gardening. But that is just not in line with my personal goals for this blog. I continue to be inspired the most by the people who are really, honestly sharing the hard things, the big things. The ones who are dancing with the elephants in the rooms of their lives. These ones remind me that by staying safe, I am not living and embracing life to the fullest.
All these doubts and fears have conspired and colluded to leave me with a pile of half-started draft posts of great potential, and a suspiciously long absence in the chronology of this blog. This is not a good outcome.
These were all the reasons why I didn't want to take on the responsibility of a blog in the first place. But I have found that it is something that I simply must do. I don't have any solutions to these problems, any insight beyond noticing how they limit my expression. I don't have a particular strategy for going on blogging that will address all these fears I have. I'll just go on, and keep working it out as I go, just like everyone else. But, you know, they say it helps to start by admitting you have a problem.