So simple & profound

A couple of weeks ago I read this post by Aidan over at Ivy League Insecurities. I will wait while you click on over there and read her fabulous post. No, really. I'll go read a blog or listen to some kick-ass music while I wait.
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While the post struck me as sweet, Aidan speaking kindly of Nic over at My Bottle's Up, what really struck a chord was this: 

"But something in me has an urge to reach out beyond the little snow globe that is my existence. And learn. About others. About different places – geographical and metaphysical. About different people. People with different pasts and different presents. With different experiences and emotions and struggles."

Aidan is much more poetic than I, when it comes to speaking of the WHY? of blogging. For me, I have always said it's for me, my journey, an outlet, a bouncing-off place, a path through my heart & mind that I want to share. It is all of these things, for me.

I have listened to others wax on about how we blog for others, for attention, for notoriety, for affirmation, for friendship. And all of these may well be true.

I have listened to others discuss the need to be honest on our blogs, share every teeny detail with those who are reading, leave no stone unturned, we owe it to our readers.

I have listened to others discuss the necessity in being anonymous, keeping safety at the forefront of the entire endeavor, separating the blog persona and the real person.

I struggle with all of this, because as is par for me, I agree with bits and pieces of all of it. I have never been black and white; I have always made my home in that lovely gray area that scares many, including my loved ones. 

I blog for me. 

I blog to get it out, to see it in print, to prove to myself that my feelings are accurate, real, and justified. 

I blog for support, for a shared sense of SHARING, for new friendships.

I blog to organize my thoughts, my dreams, my emotions, my past, and get a grasp on my future.

While I give you tattered threads of my heart, share dreams that haunt me, I also keep my distance. I am not completely honest with my readers about all of me, all the time. Not that I lie, but I withhold things, things that I'm not quite ready to admit to myself, and certainly not to my readers.

And each time I let fear rule my hands as I type up another post, I think "Maybe I should take a break. Maybe I shouldn't share all of this. Maybe no one gives a shit about it. Maybe I shouldn't give a shit about any of it."

But I hit publish anyway, shaking, fearful that I will disappoint someone, shame someone, throw someone for a loop, push someone away. I am such a people-pleaser, even those people that I have never laid eyes on, even those lurkers, even those who don't deserve the pleasure of my pleasing.

And then I read a post like Aidan's, so simple and profound. And I think "Yes, YES, I have got it right. See it's right there-she thinks like I do. This must be right." And I feel a sense of freedom, of companionship, of pride. I feel as though I have a true friend in Aidan, although we have never gone shopping together, nor have we gone out drinking and dancing until 2am. Nor have we even emailed back and forth. But I read her post, and I realize that we are all doing this shit for the same reasons, and they are all true and just and beautiful.