I should, but I don’t.
This post will attempt to explain why but, as you will see, even saying this much will be quite difficult.
I was raised in an emotionally abusive environment, though I didn’t know it at the time. My teenage years were one long project of gaslighting me by one of my parents, and I only figured it out just before I moved out of the house.
What I did know was that I was an introvert, and that having deep feelings, and considering them valuable, was a Very Bad Thing for which I would be punished, usually by public humiliation, and then years-long repetition of those humiliating moments anytime the least excuse presented itself.
In spite of my rather notorious romantic record after that, one of the things my various relationships helped me with was getting to a place where I could express myself, at least in certain ways, on certain topics, without feeling like I was going to be attacked at any moment for the slightest “wrong” word or opinion.
Then I got engaged to a full-blown sociopath. As that relationship inevitably went to hell, one thing that happened was that my every single utterance or typing, public or private, was used as “proof” that I was the worst human being in the universe. And it didn’t matter what I actually said, because she was perfectly fine with just making shit up, if she thought it would affect my life badly in any way. The attempt to make me appear to be a child rapist, through false-flag posts using accounts created to appear to be me, was only the most ridiculously delusional of these attempts.
Ever since then, and it has been many years now, making any public attempt at communication, whether it be blog posts, or attempts to market my writing, has been pure hell for me, internally, because I know, I know for an emotional certainty, that I must be attacked with it.
If I listen to some music, I’m a bad human being for listening to it instead of X.
If I read a book, I’m a terrible person for reading instead of Y.
If I make a blog post, I’m awful, because obviously.
And the thing is, I know, intellectually, that this is just the result of being abused. I know it, I see it, I hate the monsters who did this to me, but it still affects me. I had conquered it almost completely, but now, I’m afraid, I’m going to have to live with it the rest of my life. I go through times where I can ignore the nagging voices in the back of my head, but then I go through times where they have free run and do as much damage as they possibly can.
I try to plan around those times, to set up posts a month or two in advance, so I can let the posting schedule slide without there being any public evidence of the turmoil in my head. But, as you can see from all the gaps in the blog’s timeline, that hasn’t been as effective as one would hope.
So that’s it. I’m damaged, and I’m trying to work around it, but that’s how things are.