My blog is not doing well. It has only been a month and a half, but I feel like I can already tell you the outcome. It’s going to continue in a downward trend, and eventually I’m going to be forced to give up or continue to struggle with the depression I get when something I try doesn’t work because this is really what I would rather be doing. Writing.
Fewer people read my blogs this week than previous weeks. I know I am a decent writer, there is just not enough interest.
Not enough interest in the subject matter? Maybe. Truth is I should have started this blog eight years ago when I was a recent college graduate and the knowledge I have was still relatively new. These days you can look on basically any mommy blog or psychology blog and find the information I’ve been sharing. It’s everywhere.
But what I really think it is– there just isn’t enough interest in me. I mean I’m pretty sure even my mom doesn’t read my blogs anymore. Don’t think I’m sitting here about to whine about it because I’m not. I am a deeply introspective person that understands that I often get overlooked because something else seems more interesting. There will always be those people that take genuine value in who I am, and I am so appreciative of those people. They are the reason I am still alive. But they are never going to be the majority because I, myself, am not an outstanding person. Whatever it is that makes people gravitate towards someone, I don’t have it. I know that. Sometimes I think I have kind of the opposite thing going on, but really, I’m probably just stuck in neutral. It is what it is.
To be honest, I haven’t been using this blog in the way I wanted to to begin with. When choosing a domain name, my husband and I found that many of the names I would have preferred had been bought up by the companies that turn around and sell them for a profit. We can’t afford that. I chose from what was available to me and “Anxiety Mama” was what seemed to fit the best. Both of those things can be used to describe me. But it made me feel like I needed to post certain things. I needed to behave accordingly because if I’m going to be “Anxiety Mama” I have to come about it in a certain way. A way that isn’t fitting to who I actually am, like that old adage of trying to fit a square peg into a round hole.
Only I am not even a square peg. I haven’t really found a hole that is shaped like me yet, if we are being honest. That was supposed to be what this entire blog was about. A journey of trying to figure myself out. I just got lost along the way because I was trying to fit my title, rather than the other way around. I also started listening to people who have no business telling me how to run my blog, but we can overlook that. Sometimes people have good intentions, they just don’t really have any idea what they’re talking about.
Anyway, I’m going to keep writing. I don’t want to concern myself with whether or not people are reading. I want to write. I’m going to.
Yes, I had hoped that I would be able to make this profitable. It would be nice, but you know? I’ve got other tricks up my sleeve I can use to generate an income. It doesn’t have to be this. This is going to be about me. Like it was always supposed to be. I’m still going to do the Friday Fiction and Saturday weekly updates (although maybe not every Saturday– sometimes there isn’t really anything to update). But I don’t want to do the whole “professional mommy” thing. Other blogs have that covered. Although, I might throw in a few interesting tips here and there. I mean just because I’m a mess who can’t take my own advice doesn’t mean you have to be, right?
I think the reality of it is that I’m just kind of afraid to put myself out there. People get awfully judgy sometimes, and with the whole social anxiety thing, this is just a whole new way that I’m making myself vulnerable to getting hurt. I guess that’s kind of the point, though. No one became a professional writer by breaking down whenever they received a harsh critique, and I’ve received a lot of them. People without anxiety do not really understand those of us that do have it so well. I have been told this by someone who developed PTSD years after we met. “I never really understood you until I had to deal with it for myself.” It’s okay. If we all understood each other, this entire blog would be pointless. It is the desire for a greater understanding. Not just for me, but for others like me.
And I will find my place, eventually. I just might have to fail a few more times first.
