When I was a little girl, it was all about the letter you sent through the mail and then, the wait for the one you would get back in return. I didn't know it then, but that was the beginning of the social media in my life.
I discovered this after analyzing the feeling I get after clicking publish on my blog post or after commenting on someones blog post and yes, even the dreaded times that I wait for a comment and wonder if what I said was dumb or what?
I waver between liking and disliking anything that looks like self promotion, trying to decide if I should join the clutter of other social media, being another extra thing to do, and the noise of bloggers outdoing each other by posting something that spoke of more depth than the one before.
I have good intentions in all my thinking. I intend to not be a gossiper, meddler, accuser, criticizer, etc...Yet, I find that I go back and check that one thing an individual said and did they really mean how it sounded? And by that comment that someone left for me, did they just rain on my parade or what? For the world to see no less.
And the silence. Please, don't go silent on me, for I need to know what you think. I wonder, does it mean they are fed up with my thoughts? Do they think thoughts like, 'she thinks she's a writer?' Sneer and smirk. And the whole time I know its exactly like it was, while going through puberty, when you were sure someone was looking at you funny, only to discover later after you grew up, they didn't even see you. At all.
And then I am struck with the absolute nonsense of it all.
I have learned a lot about myself, and my reactions about life since I have started sharing what I write. Do I think what I have to say matters that much? What speaks more of self promotion than worrying over what I have written? If I really believe what I say, why all the self doubt and anxiety? Do I really need that all consuming affirmation? These are the questions I find challenging me. I'm learning I am in need of the grace and love and forgiveness that comes from my Saviour. Especially in writing and baring my soul.
Which brings me back to letter writing while growing up. I suspect I wrote my heart in those letters even way back then. That's possibly why I identify with the waiting and feelings of insecurities even now. If I can somehow get past the gag reflex of the insecurities of writing, then I think I will be a better writer. Once I admit that whether anyone notices or not, I write because I have to. It's what makes my world go round and brings me the peace that I am filling that part of the world God gave me to fill. [That doesn't mean people are going to agree.] :) If I write my heart, I should expect to feel vulnerable. If I speak boldly,I will expect criticism or at least bold statements back. And for pity's sake, please don't worry about what to comment after all that. After all, what we really want as human beings is to be understood and loved and accepted, not analyzed by people such as myself.
By the way, have you read the book? "Great Expectations" - Charles Dickens
It has nothing to do with the title of this post, just so you know, I know. But maybe I feel a bit like Pip, disillusioned with my own expectations or the ones I feel others place upon me.