Discomfort

This is going to be something of a personal blog, which makes me uncomfortable.  Blogging about my life seems like such a vulnerable thing–all my weaknesses are out there for everyone to see.  Since this is to be something akin to therapy, for me, I know it won’t work if I censor myself.

I don’t know who’ll read this.  I don’t know who I want to read it.

I have several ‘presences’ online, several incarnations of myself.  Like Odin/Wednesday’s character in American Gods, they’re me, but I’m not them.  Not always.  It makes me nervous to think that people I know from these various communities might be mixing here.  It’s more than a CDO thing, though there’s that to consider as well.  It’s an avatar thing, a residual self-image thing.  Will people who don’t usually see this or that aspect of me judge me?

Blogging about my life is also a self-indulgent thing.  I’ve always had trouble taking myself seriously.  Why would I think that anyone would give two shits about my life; my thoughts; my problems?  I could just as easily keep a personal journal to sort out my thoughts–though something tells me that the act of posting those thoughts online will help me stick to my commitment to write, which is probably worth any self-filtering I do at the same time.  I’ve said it before: posting one’s writing online is an inherently attention-seeking activity.

In many ways writing is the act of saying I, of imposing oneself upon other people, of saying listen to me, see it my way, change your mind. It’s an aggressive, even a hostile act. You can disguise its qualifiers and tentative subjunctives, with ellipses and evasions — with the whole manner of intimating rather than claiming, of alluding rather than stating — but there’s no getting around the fact that setting words on paper is the tactic of a secret bully, an invasion, an imposition of the writer’s sensibility on the reader’s most private space.  — Joan Didion

Maybe sharing my inner life will help me gain perspective from external as well as internal examination.

It all keeps circling back to vulnerability for me.  Can I really share all this–all my weaknesses and insecurities–with the entire Internet?  Given the increasingly alarming instances of cyberbullying, I don’t even think it’s paranoid to worry about people using what they might find here to attack me.

I don’t know how I feel about all that.