Some people are enthusiastic when you’re making plans, but they pull out at the last minute. I call them ‘gunnas’. They say they’re gunna come to a party, but even as they’re saying it, you know they won’t.
Gunnas text you when you’ve just arrived at the party to say that they’re sick. Bad headache. Or one of their kids was up all night coughing. That’s a common one.
Let’s give some gunnas the benefit of the doubt. But as for the others, they weren’t sick. Neither were their kids. Something didn’t come up at the last minute.
Actually, it did. Insecurity came up at the last minute.
Maybe they didn’t want to walk into the party on their own, they didn’t think they’d know many people there, or they didn’t want to look bad…
Whatever the fears, that insecurity is debilitating.
Turns out I’m a gunna.
I made this big announcement that I was going to blog every day in September using Fat Mum Slim’s photo-a-day prompts. I was all enthusiastic and excited. Then we went away for a weekend and I tried to post blog entries late at night at our friends’s house on my tiny phone screen and ended up giving up.
I broke my word. And because it was broken, I gave myself permission to keep breaking it.
Every single day since that weekend, I’ve sat down with a prompt, a keyboard and a voice inside my head that sniggers, ‘Who do you think you are? You’re no authority on any of those prompt topics. On any topic. What makes you think people want to read your writing at all, let alone EVERY SINGLE DAY?’
And I close my laptop without writing a word. And I go to bed, feeling like I’ve been sent there.
Well today I’m going to turn that around.
Who do I think I am? I’m someone who loves writing. And connecting with people through what I write.
What makes me think people want to read something I’ve written every day? I don’t. Reading a blog is optional.
Today I’m asking myself what’s the best thing that can happen if I blog everyday?
- I get to write every day.
- My blog followers (and I thank them for reading, commenting, liking and even sharing) might enjoy it.
The worst thing that can happen?
- No-one reads it. Does that matter if I’ve enjoyed writing it?
- Someone might read it but click away disappointed they just spent two minutes of their lives that they’ll never get back. And unless they tell me, I won’t know. And if they did tell me, I’m afraid I still can’t give them that two minutes back.
I apologise for not doing something I said I was gunna do. Next time the malicious voice in my head tries to share her opinion, I’m going to do what I’d do in any abusive relationship. I encourage you to do the same. Look at the best thing that can happen if you go to the party and the worst. Then go. Have you been stopped by insecurity?