Inadvertent spammers feel the same way.
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Post Title: Here we go...

Post Date: April 23, 2014

Hey. My name is liz. My heart is fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings right now. I cannot believe that I am starting a blog. 

Only recently have I become comfortable with social media. I’ve had — hmm — how shall I put this? A delayed adulthood. I’m almost forty years old and I am barely beginning to get the hang of living my life. And due to delayed development, I usually joke, that the last thing I need is to be found.

My delusions of grandeur whisper that the ubiquitous “they” are looking for me, and if I put myself OUT THERE, the long lost friend from grade school, looking to recapture our memories of the monkey bars, will find me. It pains me to imagine an ex-boyfriend (who is, probably, successful in every way I am not) stumbling upon my Facebook wall and smirking while reading my latest post about how another one of my fledgling futures that I somehow Scotch-taped together has been dashed, once again, by my own hand.

Only people who have their shit together would start something like a blog. But if one’s past helps to predict one’s future, my fine day may never arrive. Secretly, I think that the recent uncontrollable urge to put myself OUT THERE is the necessary nourishment I need to heal.

Post Title: What’s in a name?

Post Date: April 28, 2014

Explain why you chose your blog’s title and what it means to you. — WordPress, 365 days of prompts, 2013

My modus operandi is to be driven to extremes. As I said, I’m famous for hurriedly Scotch-taping together a fledgling future, only to tear it to pieces with my own hand. I’m the type of chick who is able to make a good first impression but unable to follow through.

My blog is a perfect example of my infantile ego demands. I felt super positive about my first post last week. As I stated, it took me months to access the strength to do something like this, and I felt a self-satisfaction that I could get used to.

A flourish, if you will.

It wasn’t until Sunday morning that I posted again. Why? Because childlike feelings of fear constantly dogged my steps. I was unable to secure a psychic stronghold in the wasteland of my mind, and my whispering thoughts taunted me, “The first time was a fluke; you’re not going to be able to write something halfway decent again; you may as well stop right now; you have no business doing this.” So, I hid — lest my humanness hang out.

A flounder, no doubt.  

Welcome to the turbulent flux of my mind. While writing this, I can’t help but smile. I have tried so hard to hide my brokenness by rejecting anything I will not be perfect at on the first shot. This blog is about me consistently showing up. Broken or fixed. Flourishing or floundering, I am determined to connect with my humanity. I trust that my writing is the way.  

Post Title: The Learning Curve

Post Date: April 29, 2014

I have only posted three times on my blog, and each time, I text the post’s link from my phone to my contacts. Yesterday morning, an acquaintance texted back and asked me to stop sending her the link.

Now, intellectually, I understood where this person was coming from. I hardly know her, and out of the blue, she is receiving three random texts from me, a woman she hardly knows, referring her to a personal online journal? At 7:45 a.m., I might add. I got it.

But, inside, I felt ashamed and embarrassed. Rejected, I wanted to roll up into a ball, like the little black roly-poly bug. Just shut down altogether. Yes, I realize, it’s just one person’s input, but putting myself out there hasn’t been easy.

The realization: I’m generating spam. Shameless self-promotion. And this is from a person who claimed she wanted to be anonymous. How’s that for irony? Gosh, bumping into myself can be downright spooky sometimes.

I’m confident this is just part of the learning curve, but, man, it can be startling.

Title: Flourish or Flounder | Address: flourishorflounder.blogspot.com

Author: Liz R. | From: Downtown | Blogging since: April 2014

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Comments

dwbat June 11, 2014 @ 2:55 p.m.

Welcome to the human race, Liz. And to anyone else who says they don't have any self-doubt: you're a liar!

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