I think my basic trouble with blogging, and by extension keeping a diary, goes back to my teen years at home.
I had never kept a diary or a journal growing up, but one day I decided to give it a try. My first attempts were crude at best and handwritten on looseleaf sheets of paper that I kept inside an old 8-track storage case (if I recall correctly).
It was either the next day or within several days that my mother confronted me about what I had written. This impressed several things upon me immediately. Most importantly, my mother was going through the things in my room without my knowledge or consent, and that after the fact it was perfectly acceptable for her to discuss what I had been writing.
What did I learn?
Obviously, I learned that I should never write down my thoughts or feelings about anything again…ever. So, here I am some 28 or so years later trying to overcome the terror of putting down my thoughts and feelings specifically for the purpose of other people being able to read them. You’d think that now she’s dead I’d be able to get past this, but my subconscious learned its lesson far too well. It learned that somewhere out there is someone waiting to read this, judge it, and then throw it back in its face.
Just one more side effect of being Brought Up Lutheran by German Parents. Perhaps one day I’ll learn to turn this affliction to my advantage.