It's Scary to be Seen

The moment I hit publish last Sunday, the anxiety started to kick in. Man, it's been 10 minutes, and not a single sign-up? My inbox is not exploding with messages about my post? Did I write something stupid? Was it confusing to post on Instagram, but then expect people to subscribe on an external website? Is the subscribe button even visible? I shouldn't have posted on a Sunday afternoon, how stupid of me. On and on it went for another hour at least. I was having “fun”, as you could see.

I even started criticising myself about other parts of my life, totally unrelated to the post I had just shared. Why did I push myself so much during the run? How did I think that was an acceptable thing to say to someone I just met? What am I doing with my life?

But then I managed to catch myself. Wait a minute, what am I doing here? This is spiralling, and overthinking at its finest. Yes, it's vulnerable to share my thoughts online, but why do I feel so much pressure? There is no lion chasing me, and my life isn't in danger. Not even close. I’ve wanted to share my thoughts for a long time, it feels in alignment with the person I am, so what's the issue here?

It feels scary to be vulnerable. I often feel alone before opening up. I believe I’m the only one having these thoughts. With people in physical space, it feels a bit easier. We can support each other, I can feel their presence and we already have a connection.

Online is a whole different story. When I hit publish, I was alone in my apartment and it felt like standing naked in the middle of the city centre. I had no idea who was looking at me, what they were thinking or if I was being stupid for doing this.

It was fascinating to experience how much the ego can shape our reality. Even though hitting publish was a full-body yes, when it actually happened, the ego stepped in. My true self wanted to express itself, yet the ego had other plans. It wanted validation at all costs, and when the expected praise did not come, it went into a full-blown attack.

After an hour of continuous refreshing, I managed to step away and give my brain a break. I danced a bit, cooked dinner, and read a book. Finally the ego started to quiet down, and another voice emerged. I suddenly felt a sense of satisfaction for having the courage to share my thoughts and be vulnerable. I was grateful to the five people who subscribed. A few friends gave me feedback and congratulated me on taking the leap.

I felt content for coming out of the shadows. I promised myself I'd continue writing, checked my email one more time and went to sleep.

So here I am, showing up again, despite the stories my mind keeps making up to protect me. Naming what I felt is part of starting something new. It is scary, messy, and full of uncertainty. Maybe you’ve felt this too. The butterflies in your stomach before expressing yourself. The silence after the leap. If so, this one is for you too.

Thanks for walking with me. I’ll keep going, one post at a time.