I'm feeling pretty self-conscious these days. I am a reserved, introverted type of person. Contrary to popular belief, I do know how to talk, but I often have trouble making casual conversation. (Especially when I'm feeling tired).
Unfortunately, fatigue is a fairly constant companion these days. I'm certainly less exhausted that I was a few short weeks ago, but a month of disjointed nights are catching up with me. I feel my social skills have taken a real beating lately.
I like keeping a blog because I communicate more fluidly through text than speech. I love the written word (and often wish my mouth came with a backspace key). When I'm too tired to talk, I usually have no problem expressing myself in writing. I've always enjoyed updating my blog.
Until now, that is.
I'll be very candid --- I'm feeling self conscious because many people have started reading this blog. When I started out a couple years ago my blog was a private passion. My family and a few friends knew it existed but for the most part I could be anonymous. Not many people from my "real life" read The Ink Spot.
Now it seems like everybody and their dogs read The Blog. (I know this really isn't true.) In a way I'm flattered. At the same time, I'm terrified.
My goodness, all my friends know the intimate details of my life. (I also know this really isn't true.) They even know what I'm cooking for supper each night! What a heavy burden of responsibility! I feel like I must deliver on what I write. Blogging is a great tool for accountability and self-examination, but I'm not sure you all need to know every time I serve my family pork chops.
This is quite a scary predicament for an introvert. I've got serious case of stage fright going on. However, I don't plan to give up blogging just yet. It wouldn't be right for me to run away in fear.
That said, I need to make the following disclaimer:
I'm FAR from perfect.
My kids drive me nuts too often.
I can be anal and controlling.
I don't do well on little sleep.
I get angry.
I gripe and complain.
I judge unfairly.
I'm horribly prideful.
I rarely follow my meal plans to the letter.
I'm a work in progress. Thank God, I'm His work.