Last Sunday, I was bored.
I’d had a busy week and was really looking forward to having an entire weekend with the husband. We haven’t had a weekend of no plans since before our holiday in July.
We were going to pop out to a few places, nothing too exciting, and I couldn’t wait.
Then the lurgy struck our house yet again. Thankfully, it wasn’t me this time. I don’t think I would have coped with another bout of being bedbound.
Our weekend plans were out, and we stayed in. On Saturday, the husband happily watched football whilst I served him lemsip, and I pottered around the house, but when Sunday came, I was bored of that. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, but it wasn’t anything I was doing.
When I discussed this with my therapist on Tuesday, she asked me why I didn’t write a blog post. I told her I didn’t have anything to write about.
As we got deeper into the session, I realised this wasn’t true. I have plenty to write about. The problem is when I write, I treat it like a piece of work, editing it within an inch of its life until there is barely any of me left in it.
Achieving my dream of writing for a living has sent my blog writing sideways. All this learning and growing as a writer is great, but the little blog I’ve been nurturing for nearly eight years has suffered.
I’ve edited the “me” out of This Is Still Me.
If I’m honest, it’s not just me having my copywriting hat on. It’s fear. Fear of judgement, fear of failure, fear of being “seen”
This blog was always about being authentic and honest, the good times and bad, but now I feel like I’m just showing the surface level most of the time. Because the good times have felt few, who wants to hear about the bad times all the time?
But that was never what it was about. It was always about sharing without fear of judgement or failure, and I wanted this to be seen by the people who needed it.
But I got too in my head about it because I’m a “writer” now. What a load of shit. I’m still a person. I’m still me.
I kept this page separate from my business for that very reason. I can write professionally, write what people want to read about for others, and put all that editing to good use. That’s not what this page is for.
This blog is for me to let it all out, to scream into the void and spill the words onto the screen, and it’s a bonus if it resonates with people and when I’m being myself, instead of the edited version I think people want, it usually does.
So, if you want to read my more polished writing, head over to www.clarehwrites.co.uk, but if you want the more honest, raw, real side, stick around and hold on tight because it’s an absolute f*cking rollercoaster ride.
I thought about perhaps changing the name of my blog but decided to stick with This Is Still Me because I’m always evolving, but still me at heart.
Still here, still me, still overthinking!
Clare ❤️
