When I started blogging as a sophomore in college, it was merely a fun side hobby. I wrote short posts, never diving into anything too personal. I didn’t want to make my journal public–not because I didn’t believe in my writing, but because vulnerability is scary as hell.
Putting myself out there only to get ridiculed or have people ask, “Why would she ever make that public?” was always a scary thought for me.
We all try and live by the cliche “don’t worry about what others think.” But, I do. I do care what others think of me. And you probably do too.
Writing has been my escape since opening the pages of my first diary in 6th grade. It was sparkly and Barbie-pink. There was a lock on the front, with a small key I kept in my desk drawer. I’d write about my day, grievances, ~hot new couples~ of East Middle School, and random, sporadic thoughts of a pre-pubescent teen.
I recall one post saying, “I had a bagel and cream cheese for breakfast and it was SOOOOOO good! Well! Ttyl. Love, Beth.” It sounds silly, but even if it was a brief moment with my diary, it was something I looked forward to after school.
Diary entries turned into more well thought out journal entries. As I matured, so did the blank pages of my journal. I grew as a person, and my writing grew with me. The words I put on paper understand me sometimes better than I understand myself.
“I write because I don’t know what I think until I read what I say.”
I don’t remember the exact moment where I felt inspired to bring my journal entries accessible to the world. Perhaps my ink ran out, or I filled the last blank page only to want to write more.
I sat in my bed one night, writing a mindless blog post about guys (no surprise there). I found myself getting into a piece of my past that I avoided for so long. I continually tapped backspace button, deleting the words when it started to feel real again.
You can’t delete a memory.
As soon as I came to that realization, my fingers started replaying a story on my laptop keyboard. The words came so easy, despite the the emotional pain I felt.
My words became stronger than my emotions. And, that, was possibly the most liberating feeling. I let it sit in my Drafts folder for a few weeks, but at 2am on a Friday with a few vodka sodas in me, I hit “Publish.”
And that was the start of a new chapter.
A girl with a blog about dudes and opinion-based pieces is often an easy target for jokes (s/o to Rob and Roller), and it is kind of funny. The jokes don’t bother me, and I usually join in on them.
Omg, Beth, are you gunna blog about this LOL?!?! Like, probably…lol…
So, why do I blog? Many reasons. I like to write, people like to read what I write, etc. But, I guess the main reason is that I never know how my words are going to affect someone. It’s like an abstract art piece. One article may hit home for someone, while someone else may be totally offended. I like words. I like how they make people feel ~all the feels~, including myself.
A girl with a blog may sound like a painful cliche, but it’s one that you just read about all the way to the end.
And that’s pretty cool.
Need to give a huge thanks for all the support on my previous piece about my new normal. You reminded me why I even started this blog in the first place.