Why I write a blog.

I have been thinking about this blog and why I do it. The simple answer is I’m not sure. I’m not an extrovert at all. So to put myself out into the world where people could read my blog and judge me for it’s content makes me feel vulnerable.

In a world where so many of us feel self doubt, why then am I willing to be vulnerable. It’s a question that has really got me thinking. When recently watching Bohemian Rhapsody, a movie about Queen and Freddie Mercury, Freddie says to the band members, ‘we are a group of misfits and all those people out there in the crowd are misfits who identify with us’. He was inferring that was part of the reason for their success. But Queen did their thing and the masses gravitated. Each band member was different and offered something unique to the band. They weren’t a group of guys you would of expected to come together and form a friendship, a bond. Music was their common denominator. Music was the common denominator for each fan. I’m not comparing my talent to them but I did take from it to just do your thing. More people might relate than you think.

I read lots of articles about people, by people and I have recently started listening the audible apps books.

I enjoy books but I don’t enjoy reading. I never have. In my early high school years I got placed in remedial reading group for a while. That affected my confidence a lot. It’s never left me, it’s always there that I must’ve been one of the dumb kids. I hated when at school in classes where you had to share a book with a fellow student. The teacher would say read pages 10-14. I was a slow reader. The other person always got to the end of the page before me. Because I was embarrassed I couldn’t read fast enough that feeling would prevent me from taking in whatever I did read, then when I knew the other person had gotten to the end of the page I would pretend I’d also finished and we would turn the page. As I result I had no idea what the heck was going on during the class discussion time.

I hated English. I hated having to read articles and critically assess them. I never got good marks in English. I always preferred the science related topics. Facts, rather than topics which were subjective where it seemed if you thought like the teacher you got good marks but if you didn’t then it was always a C or D grade.

For English novels I’d read the blurb on the back about the book and pretty much read as little of the book as I could to do the essay or assignment.

So I’m someone who likes fact, real things. I think that’s why I don’t gravitate to the fiction section of a bookshop. I prefer autobiographies, memoirs or biographies, real life events. I like books about people. I like to hear their account of things. I’ve recently enjoyed Leigh Sales, No Ordinary day, Michelle Obama’s, Becoming and I am currently listening to Hilary Clinton’s, What Happened.

I listen to these books and I think, I’m a person with thoughts, feelings and life experiences as well. I’ve lived 52 years of life, that’s definitely had its highs and lows. I’ve made mistakes, grown as a person. But I still have a lot to learn. I think that’s why I enjoy listening to other people’s accounts of facing challenges in life, their success stories and failures and how they moved forwards, how they overcome adversity and how life has challenged them.

My mum once said to me, that when people would say I’m quiet or don’t show a lot of emotion over things that she would say ‘still waters run deep’. I asked her what she meant by that. She said it may not look like much is happening on the surface but deep down there’s a lot happening. That I’m a deep thinker’. Mum never gave me much feed back on what she thought of me as a person so this insight to how she saw me I have held close to my heart. I think she was saying, I was ok. That I had substance. That I wasn’t shallow. That despite not showing how I felt about things on the outside it didn’t mean I didn’t feel them.

She was so right. I did feel. I was picked on at school for having Asian eyes. My great grand mother was Chinese so the genes have been diluted but the almond eyes are there. Kids at primary school could be quite cruel. I learnt from an early age to not show my pain. It was easier to be quiet and reserved than to be loud and heard.

Being heard attracted attention, and I didn’t want anymore attention. I shied away from the cool kids. I was never a cool kid at school. I was different. I wasn’t what was cool. I looked different and my mum dressed me different. We never had a lot of money and I was never able to have the latest fashion. My sister got those clothes because she was the one growing out of clothes and needing new ones. I seemed to get a lot of the hand me downs. But funnily when mum did buy clothes they were from children’s boutiques. I wanted the cheaper clothes, the one other kids wore from mainstream clothing chains. I wanted to fit in, not stand out anymore.

When I did get clothing I liked I loved it! I would feel amazing. This outfit I’m wearing as a young girl I loved. I felt good in this.

I was never a confident kid. In my school days bullying was called being picked on.

Being bullied as a young child affected my confidence til this day. It’s made me want to be unseen. To not draw attention to myself.

I’m someone with feelings and thoughts who exists in this world and blogging is a way of talking to the world and not being seen. And I’m not seen, my blog stats show me that. So why do I blog. Because it’s safe, because I’m not seen. So if my blog is crap I’m not seen, but if I wrote something worth saying someone may see it and may tell someone else so only those that are interested in what I have to say will tune in. I’m lost on this forum amongst thousands of bloggers and that’s the safe bit. Some much more creative, much more talented and bold.

People who know me well may be surprised that I would describe myself as an introvert. The people who make me feel like they like my company I open up and I’m relaxed around. But to all the others I have learnt the art of survival. To be present enough to be unnoticed. If you are too quiet, your weird, if you’re to outspoken you attract attention . I’ve learnt to sit in the unnoticeable range.

I don’t shout out to the world I write a blog, I don’t advertise to widely that may attract the bullies and judgments. My grammar may not be correct nor my spelling perfect, but I don’t want that to stop me from writing. So I put more thoughts into words. If anyone finds it interesting then that’s great. Really great.

Having life experiences has taught me a lot about myself about my resilience, my strengths and weaknesses, and a bit about other people. I dealt with some life changing situations, the divorce of my parents as a young child and the death of my husband in my early thirties and I’ve done ok. When death comes knocking at your door on some idle Tuesday afternoon.

I like writing my blog because it takes my mind away from current thoughts that may be weighing on my mind. Away from the things I can’t control but also can’t help but worry about. It allows escapism from my day to day pressures for a while. It’s relaxes and stimulates my mind at the same time. It cathartic.

I’m independent and can be strong when I didn’t think I could be. I’ve bounced back and I have gained some wisdom. I’ve been through some stuff and I now have done stuff. I think I have things that may be worth saying.

I just say it here quietly and keep moving forwards with my life.

Love Lucy. x

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