Keep Calm and Blog

So over the past two weeks, I stopped being so lackadaisical with my blog and made it my daily writing exercise. I'm now posting with same frequency I used to back when xanga existed.

Anyways, logged on to this blog this morning, and freaked the fuck out.

I'm used to no one reading my posts. That's a perfectly acceptable number of people. Zero. It's a humble single digit that keeps my ego asleep. I was hidden and safe at zero.

But lately, almosy overnight, the number of views to my posts keep going up. One is even up to 50 views. That might not seem like a lot to you but that's a lot of people to me. To give you an idea, that's more people than I've talked to in the past two years. Combined.

I wasn't expecting this. I mean, I hoped maybe one or two friends might read it. But I saw the world map view and people around the world are reading what I put out into this virtual world.

Holy. Mother. Eff. People I have never met are reading this blog.

And I'm officially freaking out now.  Yup. Panicking. My pointer finger is trembling over the mouse. I'm very tempted to change my view settings back to private, back to zero.

Because zero = safe.

Safe is good. Safe means I won't get hurt. Safe means nobody knows what the truth about what really goes on in my head.

A conversation I had with my friends last week came back to me. I mentioned my blog and they all said the same thing.

"You're brave to do that."

I didn't understand what they were talking about. I'm high strung and perpetually nervous. Brave does not mix well with that combo. Hearing that word used to describe something I was doing worried me. I mean, one or two people stumbling on this blog wasn't a big deal,was it?

Brave is doing something that matters to the world. I'm not helping someone suffering from the heatwave that's taken over India. I wish I could help. I wish I could stop the poaching of elephants in Africa. I wish I could go all Rambo on their ass and rescue mother elephants being butchered in front of their babies.Brave means rescuing someone.

Me? Brave? I'm 5'2 and still can't operate the coffee machine. I can barely rescue myself.

So I went to meditate and 30 minutes later, I found the epiphany I was looking for.

Brave doesn't always mean you have to do something physically challenging. Brave can mean something else too. Brave is sticking your neck out and risking rejection.

I'm being brave because I'm not hiding. I'm putting myself out there. I'm letting the world see me. If I let this blog exist publicly, then I'm inviting rejection in.

Brave means that I know that and I'm still doing it anyway.

I remembered Dr. Brene Brown's TED talk on vulnerability. Whether I admit it or not, I am desperately looking for connection. I'm introverted but that doesn't mean I don't want to belong. I mean, people actually die if they don't have social connections. You might be saving my life by reading and commenting on my posts. Ever think about that?

This blog is my attempt to find a connection with people. I think that's why my friends said I was brave. I was daring to take myself off the Novocain and live without the numbness anymore.

So I guess I'll say...thank you and hello. (Tentative wave*).

Hello, India. Sorry about the heatwave. Hope you guys are staying cool. I miss your food. 

Hello, Philippines. I'm certain one of you is my sister from another mother reading this. I miss you, Ron. 

Hello, Poland. I don't know anyone who lives there. How's that like? 

And that one person in Ukraine, hello. I'm betting you clicked on me by accident. ;)

So there. You know that I know that you exist.

I'm going to continue posting and writing my honest opinions. I'll probably offend someone being as fucking opinionated as I am. Sorry that I'm not sorry about that.

When this inevitably happens, I'll have to remember that the entire world doesn't hate me. There's not a stadium of people pointing and jeering at me when I fuck up.

I mean, I hope not. God, wouldn 't that suck? Oh! STORY IDEA.