Writing Like They Aren’t Reading

When I started this here little blog I did so with the knowledge that my friends and family, specifically my mother (*waves*), would be reading. She stalked relentlessly knew about my twitter account and frankly, it seemed like too much work to try and covertly lure everyone over to a new account so I could tweet and blog without my family reading. After that I chose to post on Facebook as well, figuring if the two people who made me were going to be reading, did it really matter if someone I haven’t seen for ten years stumbled across my little corner of the internet?

It was shortly after I hit publish for the first time that I realized how difficult this would be. I believe it was the always wise, Mr. Lady who told me that writing like they aren’t reading is one of the hardest things to do. And she’s right. Being so “out” about my blog means there are certain topics that I won’t ever write about. I would never write about something that would embarrass or hurt my family. Not that I would even if they weren’t reading, but knowing they are makes it all the most certain that I won’t’. It makes writing about the dark days and sad times more difficult because I know that it will worry my parents. And there’s been a lot of dark and sad in the past few years, but I have to decide if writing about it here in this space is cathartic enough to risk worrying them. I usually err on the side of no worry.

I think I’m starting to find a balance. And by balance I mean I usually just say, “Oh fuck it. I’m writing anyway.” Yes, there are journals and less public places to express my feelings, but sometimes, especially during the dark days, you need to know that someone is listening. That someone read and acknowledged that you’re feeling this way. Even if they don’t comment. Even if it’s only your page views going up by one.

I joke that my mom is the only one reading, but it’s easy to forget. Just like I assume 90% of Facebook is glossing right over my, “New post thisaway,” sign or just like yes I know that eating an entire box of double stuffed oreos is bad for me, but that doesn’t stop me in the moment. It’s easy to forget they’re reading.

Until you post about your boobs and your dad leaves a comment.



10 thoughts on “Writing Like They Aren’t Reading

  1. Bwah! Go Dad.

    Anyway, I can totally relate. I started tweeting and blogging not using my name and not telling my parents or my in-real-life friends about it, because I wanted to be totally free and open with whatever I wanted to write. But then I didn’t write much anyway. And a couple of my brothers follow me on twitter, so they know about the blog, and that somehow has stifled me even more (didn’t know blogging even less than I have been was even possible). And then knowing that anyone I tweeted to might read what I wrote made me write even less because “why would anyone want to read what I have to write?” and there you see why I typically blog like once every million years. But I’m trying to get over that. And this blogging every day in November thing is slowly helping. So, THANK YOU for that.

  2. Stumbled across this browsing the “writing” tag and it rang really true for me, except that I’m totally secretive about my internet activities. I’m not even sure why – I mean, when I started posting stuff online when I was like 13 I’d been told all these horror stories at school about why you should never as it NOT EVER give out any personal information on the internet so I’ve always used a fake name. But now I’m 20 and an adult and not really worried about people coming up to me and going “Hey, I saw your website, you’re a loser!” or words to that effect so there’s really no reason I shouldn’t start using my real name and telling my friends and family about it, but I don’t. I guess it’s just too hard to break the habit! Following your blog 🙂

  3. Started a blog earlier this year. (I use the word “start” very loosely) I feel completely conflicted for the exact same reasons. Have had so many thoughts I wanted to put down, but have gotten all anxiety-ridden before my fingers hit the keys. So, yeah…That.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s