I woke up this morning feeling sick. A sunny bank holiday stretched out before me and I knew that I was running out of excuses to hold back from publishing my website.
I lay in bed thinking about the draft posts that I had written. I was happy with them, or, as happy as anyone can be with something that they have created. The feedback was positive from people whose opinion mattered. Why was I so stressed?
In moments of turmoil I turn to my favourite game: “What’s the worst that can happen?” If I can deal with the worst possible scenario then I can probably deal with the rest.
The game unfolded like this:
- Everyone is going to post horrible comments on your blog telling you that you’re fat. Answer: they’d be right but I’m doing something about it.
- People are going to criticise your writing. Answer: Hmmm that’s a hard one. I’ll have to steel myself and say ‘if you don’t like it don’t read it’. I will then sit in a corner crying and vowing never to write another word.
- People are going to hate you so much that the trolling will crash the internet and it will never recover. You will spend the rest of your life being vilified as the woman who ruined everything. Answer: This would be very bad but even by my standards, unlikely.
- At some point you’re going have to make a decision about whether to share your progress photos. You won’t be true to what you are writing about if you don’t. Answer: Why am I even thinking about putting myself through this? If I publish those headless photos I’ll be sat in meetings with people who’ve seen the horrors of me in leggings and a sports bra. Go back to point one and replace it with “people that you deal with every day will point and laugh at you and tell you that you are fat.”
- You have a professional career. Your anonymous website will ruin it because your writing is so awful that the world will find out who you are and refuse to speak to you. Then you won’t be able to write or work. You will lose your house and family and end up living in a car. From there you will become a drunk living in a cardboard box under a bridge. Answer: there is no answer to this possibility.
- No one will even bother to read your nonsense. Or worse still, they will read one post and vow never to do so again. Answer: probably a good thing.
Another thought has been gnawing away at me recently. I have spent the last 15 years telling my daughters that “what goes on the internet stays on the internet” and here I am considering baring my sole to the world (or at least my barmy friend’s book club).
I’m driving myself demented with fear. I have to stop this and click the ‘publish’ button.
