What's a poor bloggy person to do?

Older and Growing and Sandhill Trek recently have talked about anonymity or how much to disclose in one's blog. I certainly have wondered about this from time to time.  In a post What Could Be More Personal, Ann asks and replies:

What could be more personal than witnessing your daughter give birth, then blogging about it?  How about: witnessing your daughter give birth and not blogging about it.

Before that Ann talked about an Anonymous You where "there have to be some things you can think of saying that don't seem to belong on your official blog, burdening your actual name. And you've got to sometimes feel nostalgic for the days when you wrote for yourself, with just a twinge of excitement that somebody might be looking in. "

True Ancestor describes feeling like Dancing Around Naked when telling 100 things about himself.

Richard calls it: getting "confessional" and as starting "on one’s own guts."

Each time I read others writing about how much to disclose, I feel uncomfortable, and for awhile censor myself in some way. How much I want to say is always tempered by how much I should tell you.

The should is arbitrary, relative, subjective, biased, cultural, based on experience, determined by gender, society, whose society? need, desire, rules, whose rules? norms, mores, ethics, principles, values, beliefs, and as you know I can probably think of more to add here. And of course how much a person discloses could lead to someone being fired or sued, I suppose.

For me it is always a balance of how much of myself to give away. I tend to want to give it all in an attempt to let you know who I am and how I feel hoping that you will share as much of yourself with me. It's what Amba describes as being "completely, mutually in love." Invariably in my personal life I was always left wanting more and feeling depleted, empty or foolish as if I gave away too much.

Recently, when I visited the university of my future employment, I genuinely and enthusiastically shared with the people I was meeting how much I was looking forward to join them. I felt my heart was open, joy spilled out, but my expression was met with cold stares, a pause and then continuing on with scheduling plans. I gave away too much.  And that's all right. That way I learn the cultural mores of an institution, a community, society, or different country. I am used to that. It is acceptable to me. I find a way to balance who I am with what is expected and it becomes complex and interesting - a challenge!

Writing on the blog becomes personal and intimate quickly, easily. Words roll away from me up onto the screen as my insides spill outward. I enjoy expressing, sharing, telling, describing all that is me. And before I know it I have given it all away. Some days I click on the "publish now" button and suddenly all around me like the red knight in Fisher King, my demons rise up as two, strict, judgmental censors and settle heavily on my left shoulder breathing deeply into my brain. On other days I feel exhilarated to the point of literally losing my voice.

I think it has something to do with that "twinge of excitement that somebody might be looking in" because their looking in just makes the ride, journey, experience, past, or present a lot less lonely.

Comments

[unca davey]

Tamar, I'm dedicating this post to you. I think it describes what you're coming up against, and it will give you some encouragement to resist it!

http://ambivablog.typepad.com/ambivablog/2005/05/is_hot_the_new_.html

[unca davey]

Oops! That was me, not "unca davey"! Don't know how that happened.

[unca davey]

Me, amba. My computer has decided I'm "unca davey." Don't listen.

[Tamar]

True Ancestor, that's okay if your computer is describing the "unca" in you! This post at Amba - wonderful! I am so grateful for your encouragement.

Thank you.

[franchini]

Hi Tamar. I don't reveal too much of myself in my posts or indeed in "real" life either. I was brought up by quite emotionally cold parents and as a result I am quite self-contained. The posts of mine which are most personal are the ones about my son. Interestingly, these posts are the ones that attract the most interest and comments from readers. And, insular as I am, I really do appreciate what people have to say.

[Tamar]

franchini, your posts about your son are beautiful and poignant in your honesty with feeling and observation. The challenge of humanity, for me, is the diversity of expression or ways of dealing with things. It makes connections and relationships intriguing and wondrous to me. I almost can't get enough of it!

It is interesting which posts people comment on. I suppose it would make a good research study. I know that I love to read other blogs and sometimes I feel a need to say something, connect or share my *wisdom*, feelings thoughts, whatever. Sometimes, though, it's just good enough to read and connect through silence - listening. There are also times when I feel I might be too enraged or offensive if I really disagree horribly with someone. And then there are times when my activist principles give me the feeling that I must speak out.

For me, comments seem to be an integral and communicative part of blogging. And then back to diversity of expression and handling of things again - because there are bloggers who don't allow comments.

[Richard Lawrence Cohen]

Tamar, as a reader I am thankful for the openness of your blogging. But I can understand that you as the writer might sometimes have mixed feelings about it. After all, the audience's relationship to the writer can be emotionally parasitical. We expect you to give more and more, and what you give on the computer screen is all we see of you. For a book writer, the compensation might be money or fame or vanity. For a blogger, I hope, the compensation is in the comments and emails -- a sense of friendship and community.

In my case, I've already disclosed so much about myself in my fiction that my blogging just fills in some remaining blank spaces. Self-revelation is part of my calling. This seems to be something I like to do, even something that fulfills me, part of my emotional neediness. Unlike Franchini, I came from a family that was highly comunicative and psychoanalytical -- there were no taboos on subject matter or content or vocabulary -- and where the tone was more often than not negative, hostile, bellicose. So the emotionally positive intimacies I share now are a blessing.

What I don't post are things about work. I'm a freelance and blog on my own time, but a) for many of my projects I sign confidentiality statements, and b) I just find personal things more interesting.

[Tamar]

Richard:
"... the compensation is in the comments and emails -- a sense of friendship and community"! And the emotionally positive intimacies!

Yes - that is definitely what I "get out" of blogging!

But I also am amazed at how it improves my writing and strengthens my confidence in self-expression in general.

[Jean]

I read with my mouth open (and I fear my tongue protruding) every time someone broaches this subject. Riveted, but uncomfortable. If I think about it too much, I end up thinking too much self-exposure in one's blog is embarrassing, yucky and all-round inexcusable. If I don't think too hard, but come at it with my heart and my guts, I think why the hell not, it's just doing in at least one forum what we sadly, lamentably, stupidly don't do enough of in most of our daily lives. No-one's worked this out yet, have they? We haven't been doing it long enough. Well, that's exciting! Meanwhile, I note - rather reluntantly - that I get long, interesting comments on the things that I write that are honest and heartfelt, whether or not they are the most original. This really should not surprise me as much as it does.

[Tamar]

Yes, Jean - that's lovely - "we haven't been doing it long enough!"

I agree about the heart and guts too. And that's where it becomes so tricky for me. When I share my heart and guts I become so excited and scared all at the same time. It's wonderful and terrible too. It's the permission to say what I feel - finally - that is so different for me. And, invariably, people like you come right back and support or identify with what I have said or felt. And that's different too. It's almost like I write and then lay low expecting to get into trouble. When that doesn't happen, I grow and grow ...