I had a bit of a moment this afternoon where I had to check myself. (Before I wrecked myself, in the classic words of Ice Cube.)
I was mooching about on the internet, looking at other blogs, and getting decidedly depressed. I imagine it’s a bit like if you have an ugly baby and then you go to a baby group and see all the beautiful babies with perfectly round heads, huge eyes and rosy red cheeks. Except that has never happened to me because I make beautiful babies.
I’m not so sure I make beautiful blogs though. Sure, I can spell and everything, and I use capital letters properly, and sometimes I’m a bit funny, but I’ve never been stylish. It makes sense I guess, when I look at myself in jeans, a netball hoodie, frilly socks and old lady shoes from Clarks. It doesn’t make me feel good though looking at other, better dressed blogs, where the posts are ‘carefully curated thoughts and images of the simple things in life’.
(I made that up. Perhaps I should use it though?)
Theodore Roosevelt said ‘comparison is the thief of joy’ and he hit the nail right on the head.
I pulled a sulky face at my boyfriend, and he said encouraging things, but did point out that my blog had a fairly commercial feel, perhaps not suited to simple yet elegantly curated thoughts.
Perhaps, he suggested, I should write more about me.
Well, that’s all well and good, but it’s tricky when you have older children and a new(ish) partner – there is so much potential to offend people. Belle is grower ever less fond of me mentioning her at all, and often passes the time searching for her own name on my blog and complaining about what she has found, and it doesn’t feel very comfortable any more pouring my heart out about something, knowing that my nearest and dearest are going to read it. I feel rather like I would like some things to be private.
So how do you strike that balance? How do you share personal stories at the same time as maintaining privacy and not upsetting anyone? If you’re a blogger, do you ever suffer from blog envy?