To my gifted readers,
I thought writing for your brilliant minds would be easier with practice, but somehow, it isn’t.
My Hoagies’ Gifted Education posts comprise just over 14% of my total blog’s content, but account for over 43% of my total website views.
I did the math twice when I discovered this 13 days ago, because it was staggering. It added to the pressure I already feel to provide you with something you want to read.
Somehow, whenever I write specifically for you as my audience, I feel vulnerable. I’m the second grade girl who spent lunch recess walking alone around the perimeter of the playground fence, or drifted from the edge of one group to another, sometimes engaging, but never feeling like I belonged.
I didn’t have a place that I felt I fit in. I still don’t know if I quite fit in with you.
At recess, I would escape my loneliness by imagining that I was the main character in a book. Anything that happened was part of the story line. I convinced myself, that imagining would carry me away, and it would hurt less when I was ridiculed for being so different than the other kids.
Or mocked for being the weird kid.
It was easier to believe that what I experienced was part of a bigger plan or story. There was a reason I was ignored as I carefully observed the interactions of my peers. To escape, I cast a protective barrier over myself with wit.
I used self deprecating humor to fit in, and gain acceptance. I still do.
I struggle to feel like I fit with others, and I want you to include me in your life. I want to impress you. I want you to care about what I have to say. I want you to value me as an intellectual peer.
I admire you, but I still feel like I don’t belong with you,
and I’m not one of you. I know that I’m not the only woman who struggles with Impostor Syndrome and self doubt..
It hasn’t gotten any easier for me to write for you. In some ways, it’s become even more difficult for me. Maybe, it’s because I overthink it.
I have to force myself to hit the publish button each time I write a post for you.
I have spent a lot of time thinking about why it’s so difficult. I write a lot, but when I write for you, it’s harder. Knowing you are my audience, I write multiple drafts, edit, revise and polish. I think about what experiences I could share from my life to benefit you.
I overthink the best way to craft my stories into something that will inspire you to click and read what I write. I ponder how you receive my message.
Where I should add space
Or emphasize text
to make what I write visually engaging and easier to read on your smart phone while you are multitasking.
I wonder if I offended you, or lost your trust, or if you just got busy when I track my blog views, and I know most of you haven’t read what I wrote.
I think about what you need to hear to feel encouraged, inspired or how to regain your trust.
I overthink it every month, before my deadline. I even put a pop up reminder on my cellphone calendar to remind me not to overthink it, and just write anyway.
One time, when the topic was science, I overthought it so much I didn’t even finish a blog post, though I wrote 3 different drafts.
Despite my flaws as a person, and imperfections as a writer, I want to thank you for reading what I write.
Because, I know you’re busy, and there are a lot of other things competing for your time and attention. I appreciate that you are spending your moments with me.
And there are a lot of other writers out there who don’t start a sentence with a conjunction. Or make a sentence fragment a whole sentence.
Like I do.
Thanks for reading what I write anyway.
Usually, I am the expert. I can write from a position of expertise and experience. You know when I’m blowing smoke and call me on it. Thank you.
And most importantly, thanks for being someone that I can look up to, or admire from a far for all the amazing things you do.
Genealogy Jen’s Challenge of the week- Do something this week even though you’re afraid, or don’t feel quite up to the task. Like celebrating Mother’s Day.