I’ve been watching myself over the last week, as if from a distance, a little way removed. As if one person was doing all the doing and the feeling and the other was just sitting there wondering, “What the fuck??”
In fact, this was going to be a different kind of post. It was going to be about soul searching and wondering whether I’ve fallen down the deep hole of depression again. Wondering why I was acting out and ruffling feathers all over the place. Why this sudden need to speak what’s on my mind.
And then my coach asked me, “Would you rather be liked or speak your truth?”. With that, I realised that I wanted to be liked BECAUSE I speak my truth.
So what I thought was a process of unravelling and breaking down, might in fact be a process of unmasking, sloughing off old skin, or even rebirthing. I just don’t know, yet.
This week I’ve felt the need to drop the mask of miss goody goody two shoes, of being nice and trying to please everybody. I’ve never before held back on speaking my truth, so why should I now, just because it involves my opinions of others?
I am a whole person – multi-faceted, with many aspects to my personality. People who know me, know all of me and accept me whole.
Sometimes that means that I am a bitch, but then, aren’t we all? At uni, I had a reputation as a bitch. In a teasing, loving kind of way. Because I said what I thought, I had no filter. My sense of humour was dry and cutting.
Tact was, and often still is, a skill I don’t do well. This also happens to be a symptom of Asperger’s Syndrome and understanding this has given me an insight into all of my relationships. Sometimes, I feel I need to wear a label around my neck, just to prepare people for what they’re in for. Most of the time, I hold myself in check. I’ve mastered the art of pretending and mimicking and saying the right things. At least with people I’ve only just met. When I get to know them better, I relax and slowly reveal more and more of me. Sometimes, they run. Sometimes, they stick around.
Like most of us, I get angry and frustrated with people, and while most of the time I abide by the “If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing” rule, sometimes I am overwhelmed by the need to speak out. Sometimes I need to roar with anger. Sometimes, I need people to stop and take notice.
I’ve been writing here for six years and it feels like I’ve achieved nothing. Once the major drama in my life stopped, readers got bored and left. The work with brands and freelance writing dried up.
I feel like I can’t catch a break.
I go through periods of high excitement and activity when I come up with a new product or service, only to find that someone else has beat me to it and all my potential clients are evaporating by the second.
I tried to run a blogging workshop here in Ballarat, but it turned out that a lot of those in my target market had signed up to do an online blogging course by a famous blogger. Because she is famous. And I’m not. Everything I thought I achieved in blogging is really nothing when compared to the big names. My skills and experience mean nothing when competing with those who have had more exposure and success.
A two hour workshop with me just cannot compete with a 6 week program featuring some of the biggest blogging names in Australia.
So I gave up.
I’ve been wondering “What is it that I am lacking?” Where is that spark, that special something that has made others household names, making money in the industry, working on books and ecourses, while I just sit here and mope. I look at my contemporaries and see how much they’ve achieved and I want to scream with frustration at my lack of success. So, this week, I did.
I screamed at those who continually whine about the same old topics, because they can’t be bothered to use Google. I screamed at the futility of what I’m doing, at the lack of long term success. I screamed at those who have had success and who have abandoned me in the process. I screamed at how boring the blogging world has become and the fact that these boring (to me) blogs are in fact the ones that succeed.
I know that it’s just MY definition of boring. I don’t care about food, or fashion or kids’ activities. I am interested in people. In real people. In getting to know their stories. And I can’t any more, because hardly anyone shares their truth any more.
And THAT, dear ones, is my super power, my spark, my special something – the courage to share my truth, no matter how unpopular.
I was bold enough to share the truth of having police raid my house, bold enough to write about betrayal and bold enough to write about suicide. But nothing caused the reaction that writing about other bloggers did. People were offended. Some said their souls were crushed, because I dared to attack newbie bloggers. All I have to say to those who were offended is “get a grip, pull on your big girl panties and deal with it”. If you took it personally, it means that you ARE that lazy and rude blogger I wrote about. If you’re not, why get offended?
There is a lot of talk about how supportive the blogging community is in Australia. I call bullshit! What about all the secret Facebook groups I’ve been part of where bloggers tear other bloggers to shreds? What about GOMI, where bloggers using pseudonyms constantly attack other bloggers? What about private conversations and events for the select few who are deemed to be cool?
I chose to be a bitch under my own name and in public. Sharing an opinion held by many, expressed by few.
It probably cost me dearly in terms of support among other bloggers and that’s OK. It separated the wheat from the chaff. Because those of you who took personal offence don’t know me and don’t know, or choose not to notice, everything I’ve done to support other bloggers. Those who do, will stick around.
On a final note, as I lay in bed yesterday with yet another stress headache, I had a brilliant idea for a service just for bloggers, using my new-found super power. If you want to know more click here.