I keep thinking I want to get back to blogging regularly again, but I don't feel that I have that much to say. At 16 I thought I was going to be a writer, and I churned out page after handwritten page of fantasy stories and journal entries.... Now, not so much.
Part of my problem is I still don't have much confidence when it comes to pursuing what I like and taking a few chances. I make catty comments about people's pricing of Etsy items, and then catch myself and realize that the reason I'm being catty is because I'm jealous. I want to make nifty things and have enough confidence in my work to show it to other people and be proud of it, but I'm a) too damn critical, and b) terrified that what I do won't be perfect. (Those two may be synonymous. I haven't decided yet.) What if I tried to write a novel and it ended up being utter, horrible schlock? Worst that could happen- it WOULD be utter, horrible schlock, I and other people would recognize it, and life would go on. That's the part that amazes me- life will continue, and with most of the people I know now, they would all be kind enough to write it off as "good practice" and then have the courtesy not to mock me about it for years to come. I keep holding on to this fear that if I do even the slightest thing wrong I will never be allowed to live it down, so I don't do anything at all. I work at my quiet little office job and stress like hell to make sure that there are NO mistakes on anything, instead of just doing the best I can, admitting to the occasional mistake, and learning from it, and this is a low-key, part time, going nowhere position. I can't even fathom having a "high stress" career.
My closest girlfriend has been after me for years about going to therapy, and I shrug it off and go about my business. I'm making baby steps forward at home now that I have a supportive family, but I recognize that yes, I have some issues. What really brings it home is that in talking with another sibling and watching him exhibit all the signs of massive depression, now I'm the one advising therapy, and he's gently shrugging it off and going about his business, and it is so. darn. frustrating. I SEE that his quality of life is much less than it could be. I SEE that he has MASSIVE amounts of talent and potential, and it's being quashed by something that could possibly be treated, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it except be here for him when he wants it. I'm seeing this firsthand from both sides of the coin, and it's STILL hard to actually try and do something about it.
Some people make goals public to give themselves motivation and accountability. Perhaps instead of a NaNoWriMo I'll spend the next month trying to blog something at least once a day. No more lurking- time to actually do something.