Well, I guess it was inevitable.
I started a post this morning, all gung-ho, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 6:30 AM. The title of the post was “The Rules of Self-Disclosure.” It was something I wanted to write about this morning because I took a risk yesterday at the end of a big presentation at the hospital yesterday where I work. I was really excited and enthusiastic about that presentation — which was about an upcoming, in-process change at the hospital, where patients will be able to read all the notes doctors write about them. Afterwards, I really wanted to talk to the presenters, to express my enthusiasm and support for the new process and volunteer to be involved, but I felt too shy, and left the meeting. However, after I left, I almost immediately turned around and came back. And when I came back, my manager was talking to the presenters. He introduced me, and I spoke my piece. In the process of expressing my enthusiasm, I did some self-disclosure — I told them that I had been a patient all my life, and that I was incredibly moved by how respectful I thought this change was.
I think that whole interaction went fine, and my manager, afterwards, told me how glad he was that I had come back to talk to the presenters. And I was glad, too. But i noticed that I felt some anxiety the rest of the day, wondering whether I had said too much.
Anyway, I started writing about this topic this morning, but in a very different way. I started out by defining the use of the term “self-disclosure” and what that meant in therapy — how therapists decide what to reveal and what not to reveal about themselves when working with clients. Soon, it was time for me to leave for work, and I hadn’t gotten to the piece I really wanted to say yet. Then, I had a long tiring day at work, and when I came home, I looked at what I had written, wasn’t sure what to do with it, and then went out to dinner. Then, when I got home from dinner, I looked at it again.
And I really didn’t like it. And I felt too tired to rewrite it.
So then, I figured I would forget this post, “steal” some stuff from what I’d written for my book, and post that. But when I looked at the chapters for my book, I didn’t like anything there, either.
Now, this is something that seems to happen to me. I write something, feel okay about it, read it later, and …. I think it sucks.
It’s like some sort of switch gets pulled and if I read ANYTHING I’ve written before, I don’t like it.
So that was happening tonight. Great. So the time was going by, and I had no post. And then I started to feel the pressure of the deadline. And then I started thinking that I might not be able to post something today.
And that made me realize that I DO want to post every day. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to keep this up, but I’d like to.
So I figured I would write about what was going on in the moment. And, in the process, I quickly told that part of the story from yesterday that I really wanted to tell about self-disclosure.
So now …. here’s where the rubber meets the road. I’ve typed this post really quickly, trying to ignore and let go of my very active Inner Critic.
But NOW I’ve got to re-read this before I post it — at least for typos, for heaven’s sake. And what if that critical switch is still in effect? If it is, I’m gonna dislike this, too. Probably intensely. And if that happens, what’s going to win out? My wish to rewrite, my tiredness from work, or my wish to post every day? Because here are my choices, people: (1) I can post something I dislike, (2) rewrite it until it’s good enough (although if The Critic is in full force, that’s going to be really tough), or (3) post nothing at all.
Okay, I’m going to go back and re-read.
Okay, I did.
And I’ve made my decision.
Thanks for reading, as always.