The Fear of Putting Myself Out There

22 March 2018

It’s really difficult to write when depression/fear/panic/anxiety have their grip on you.  It’s something that does not come easy to me anyways, it never has been a skill of mine.

I wanted to start this blog to help me build and develop this skill, to help me gain confidence, to give me a focus, to give me an outlet.  I also wanted this blog to then be of service to others, you, someone you know, out there in this enormous world of people.

However, just that thought of putting myself out there, exposing myself to people and people I potentially know, kinda scares the shit outta me.  My mind tells me all sorts of reasons why I shouldn’t.  Here’s some examples:

  • “Don’t put yourself out there, what are people gonna think?”
  • “Do I want people knowing about my mental health?”
  • “What have I got to say that’s important enough?”
  • “I’m not smart enough or creative enough to do this”
  • “Trace, are people going to read this anyways?”

When I thought about this starting this blog, I was in a relatively good place, thinking about all the things and experiences I could write about to potentially help others.   

I wanted and want this blog/website to be about recovery and what has helped people live fulfilling and meaningful lives. A place for people to share their stories, a place to help and inspire those that struggle.  


Ironically, here I am struggling.  


It’s been 2 and a half weeks since I wrote about it being 12 days since being away.  A blog that almost put more pressure on me than anything – yes, pressure from myself (*Thought* – “Man, it really is such a fuck what my head says to me”).  

That word pressure just took me off on a personal tangent.  I’m noticing in this moment the tight grip this ‘pressure/anxiety/fear’ has on me.  It’s like there’s two hands twisting and holding a tight grip on my chest and heart….

…  Almost like someone reaching in, one hand in my gut, one hand just above my heart.  And they’re gently, but constantly, wringing their hands, like wringing a wet rag.


…and breeeathe.  I keep having to remind myself to breathe… deep, long and slow breaths.  Ease the pressure. Ease the struggle.


So, I guess, this is where this blog is going to start.  

An honest and somewhat brutal portrayal of where I am now.

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