Finding Security in My Writing: When Blogging Leaves You Overexposed

September 1st will mark my 6 months of having this blog and documenting my adventures.  Although writing about my life constantly leaves me feeling like I’m exposed, I also feel like there’s personal feelings that get more hidden.  Like as much as I’m putting out there, I find myself keeping more close, like I’m loosing too much too fast.  The editing and omitting of things, is still something that I haven’t gotten used to… probably because I do feel like this blog (as in my personal life) is a work in progress.

The beginning of my blogging journey started with a little self realization and creating my own ambitious dreams for the year and for my life.  Maybe it’s because it’s the year of the monkey or mercury in retrograde, but the stars are aligned once again to f*ck my sh*t up once again.  Life has been changing a little too fast for me to catch my own footing, but I feel like the time has come to explore creating new goals or at least reaffirming the ones I’ve already made.  Although blogging about it came months later, October marks my birthday and a whole year of actually putting in the efforts to reach for something unfamiliar and rock the boat a little bit.  A lot can happen in the matter of 6 moths, and it is time to reevaluate.


My writing/editing/designing hours usually end up around 3am, when I can take a break on the balcony and enjoy the stillness of the neighborhood.

Writing about personal experiences can be a bit overwhelming in itself, and I wrestle with my own insecurities.  I don’t like feeling vulnerable, so I edit myself so won’t share things that get too deep.  I don’t like feeling narcissistic, which is bound to happen when all the stories are about me, my family, my trips, and my world.  I don’t like feeling like I’m questioning my own abilities regularly: am I being a good mom, a good writer, a good designer?  All of these things had me questioning wether or not to create a blog in the first place, and still until today have me questioning it.

Even today as I wrestle with thoughts of bogus family members, I question if it’s something I should blog about.  I stop myself because for a couple reasons; it does get too personal, I am being more passive by writing about it rather than confronting it, and I’d like to think that no one likes reading about other people’s drama.  So why consider it in the first place?  It provokes strong emotions in me, I feel like it is a part of my story, and don’t want to feel filtered in this medium that I’ve created.

There’s a balance in talking about the activities you do and actively living them.  Writing my adventures has become a way to explore my own sentiment about things, but in the same way makes it so terrifying.  One day, I might be more confident in sharing more, but editing for now helps to keep me from unraveling into too much emotion.  It’s a fine line between telling my story and feeling my own insecurities come up because of it, and it’s been the hardest part of blogging.

The truth be told, this blog was supposed to be something different at this point.  I had a different vision 6 months ago, but stuff happens and things change.  Such is life.  Time to edit, omit, and revise in the real world.


Evie holding onto me and waiting patiently as I try to shoot a photo over the raging river and on a narrow bridge.  She can be pretty fearless sometimes.  Photo by Peabe.

So where did this leave me with my thoughts on blogging?

As vulnerable and unguarded as I can feel sometimes, I have friends and family who have encouraged and supported my writing and photography.  I’ve actually learned a little about who will be there to  cheer you on, who isn’t, and who drank that hater-ade.  I am left both so surprised and humbled by it.

As vain and self-centered as blogging about myself can feel sometimes, I am proud of what I’ve done in these past couple months.  It’s not easy to balance the different things that make me who I am, but I am grateful to have all of them.  I have a pretty good life, I can’t really complain.  I have a family, a roof over my head, my health, and food on the table.  I try to see it as having appreciation for the good stuff.

As insecure and apprehensive about my own abilities, I try to remember that everyone struggles with their own challenges, and that I am my own “road block”.  I don’t want to discredit the effort it took to get me here or sell my self short on my own abilities.  I need to trust in what I already know in life and leave room for learning more in practice and guidance.

I’m not a strong writer, but I more than qualified to tell my own story.  I may not have all the words to it now, but they are in me, and I will find them.

“All artists face that challenge. The best teachers pose it to their students. And, the writer/artists/photographer/film-maker, finally exhausted by her/his efforts to avoid the challenge–that is, by making enough money to feel safe for six life-times, managing grown chldrens’ lives, being the perfect partner, parent, grand-parent, boss, employee, daughter, son, being the perfect everything–that writer, lonely for her/his work, aching to empty what feels like emptiness onto the page, that writer swallows the red pill. Swallows it all the way, because worse than not swallowing it is the pathos of the person who merely licks off the sugar coating, and hopes something will emerge.” – Mary Sojourner


Morning stroll, with tripod in one hand and coffee in the other to the perfect spot for clear photo of Mount Rainier.  Photo by Peabe.

Thank you to all the friends, family, and strangers who have shared this journey so far with me.

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