Just hit the button. That’s what my brain has been telling me for the past 30 minutes. How hard could it be? Well, let me take a second and read the news. Oh, I wonder what the score is for the game.
I haven’t talked to my mom for a few days. Let me see what she’s up to. Another hour goes by.
Look at the time. I should probably do one more read-through of my blog post before I publish it. It’s getting late, let me read it again in the morning.
I went through different variations of the above scenario many times. Each time it was time to publish my blog post. What I thought was procrastination was really something else…
I was afraid of publishing. I was afraid to put it out in the world. The perfect idea of my blog post was already tarnished by me putting it to words. How did I get here?
How it started?
It started with an idea. A thought. Something I recognized in the world. Maybe others would agree. Or even disagree. It would create a dialogue.
So I wrote it down. Just the title. I let the thought sit in my head.
It was going to be great. I added a few thoughts to the idea here and there. It was perfect. Soon I’d make it real. Let me just add a little to it.
Some more words. Some more thoughts, observations. More of everything.
This is where the first part of my fear started. I was scared to put something that was perfect in my mind on pen and paper. Or Microsoft Word.
But I did. Eventually. And I was right. It wasn’t as good as it was in my head. It never is. In my head, it’s just a blob of thought. I’m able to shape it freely.
The real world is not that easy. It felt tainted. Putting words to a feeling, you can never quite explain it right.
But I had to try. Words were the best way to let others know how I felt. Or the observation that I made. Maybe it would help someone else.
How I got over that fear
There was a small trickle in the back of my mind. Quietly. Maybe this would help someone.
Maybe this would help someone else. I know I’ve resonated with stories. Blog posts, podcasts. Were they perfect? Probably not. I can’t remember any faults though.
It didn’t matter if it wasn’t. The story made an effect on me. I still remember many of them to this day. Only the good parts.
Someone may resonate with one of my stories. It could help them out of a rut. Or show people that everyone gets into ruts. Or faces fear.
It helped to think about someone else. I was being selfish by not publishing. Thinking about only my needs and not other people’s needs. It helped.
Not only that I was able to make my story more personal. Now that I had a person I was speaking to. Here’s what I did. Here’s what you can do.
I’m a chronic procrastinator. Many of us are. I remember the days back in medical school, biochem would always be last on my study list. I hated it.
Was that really procrastination? Maybe it was that fear again. Or frustration of having to study something I wasn’t good at.
It was so much more satisfying to study something that I was good at. It’s pretty defeating getting scores of 30% and 40% when doing questions.
Now it’s the same with publishing. There’s a fear. Fear that it won’t be as good as what it’s in my head. Fear no one will read it.
And I might be right. No one might read it. Or people may. The only way I’ll know if by publishing it. So I get past my fear. Put it out in the world and hope to help someone.