Why is that so hard to say? Typing it was tough, but even then I can’t even say the words out loud.
My husband has been home for several days and it has been so nice to spend time with him. But have you noticed how short my posts have been? I’ve been sneaking time to write, hoping that he won’t ask what I’m doing. Why do I feel like I need to keep this from him?
Because I feel like a fraud.
I know my writing stinks. Would you believe that I have a degree in English? I graduated with high honors. I aced the dreaded Grammar, Spelling, and Punctuation test that all journalism students had to pass before gaining entrance into the program. I have a master’s degree, for crying out loud. And over the years, I have gotten seriously lazy. I’d like to blame it on the nature of online communication, but the truth is, that’s just an excuse. I am lazy. And I’ve forgotten half of what I once knew about good writing.
But why does that matter so much? Why am I so afraid of what people will think? Why do I feel judged when, truly, I don’t read other people’s work with a teacher’s eye. No one is going to give me a grade for this. No one cares if I can’t remember when to spell out a number and when to write it as digits (and yes, I googled it yesterday because I was paranoid about my last post).
But I care. It makes me feel less worthy of being here, out in the blog world, even if I am the only one reading my posts. Even if they are truly written only for me.
The stupidest thing about all this is that my husband would think that it’s awesome that I’m writing. He would be supportive. He’d hold me accountable, asking every day what I had written. He, too, dreams of writing. And maybe, if I’m honest, that’s a part of it, too. I want this to be mine, not ours. And I’m not sure if that’s okay or not — not just with him, but in the realm of healthy relationships. He would want to read what I’ve written every day, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for that yet. And, as a Christian wife who claims to want to strengthen my relationship with my husband, who claims to want to be transparent with him, that makes me feel guilty. I’m just afraid to say to him, “I am a writer,” as if that will make it even less true.
But I’ll type it again. I am a writer.
And I will keep typing it here, until I have the courage to say it out loud.