the fear of being judged.

Two days ago I shared something very personal and immediately after I published the story, that same old fear of being judged started invading my soul and my mind. This afternoon I could barely breathe with anxiety and moved the story to unlisted.

Here’s what went through my head:

• What if I’m applying for a new job and the HR person is looking me up on google and finds out all these posts about my personal life and shit?
• What if that HR person thinks: oh no, we can’t hire her — look at how she’s kind of always rumbling on “finding herself”, juggling work, motherhood, being an artist’s wife, old job, new job, family, friends, purpose, a zillion things…
• What if I miss good opportunities because I’m sharing raw, honest stuff that happen in my life?
• Should I just share publicly about the book that I helped write during grad school? The several articles I published on Paradiplomacy and International Relations? My successful precocious executive career? My hot-musician husband? My cute talented daughter? My amazing current job and awesome boss?
• Why should I just share the good stuff? Aren’t we all fucking full of perfection? Aren’t we all overwhelmed by laser-whitened smiles, micro-bladed eyebrows and happy-families on Disney Cruise ships?
• I want to share and write about everything. The good, the beautiful and the excruciating pain of relationships. The truth. All sides of it. The hot husband and the crisis we were in for 5 years. The smart daughter and how I struggle with lack of patience at home. The beautiful beach day and the day I couldn’t move because I was so scared of becoming a big failure.

So this afternoon I couldn’t breathe and I realized it’s because I am ridiculously afraid of being judged. Of being wrong. Of doing wrong. Of missing opportunities just because I decided to write about the things I’m passionate about: my journey. my life, my thoughts. Will all of these words here out in the world, where I so deeply hope to connect with other people, specially women, specially moms, daughters, sisters, wives, people, humans going through the same roller-coaster that is living in this planet, will all of these words, my very own words, harm me?

That’s why I always stop writing and go on huge breaks. I can’t take the disapproval. I can’t deal with the possibility of being found “not good enough” for whatever — like this imaginary job that I’m not even looking for.

You know what, to hell with that. If a company doesn’t want to hire me because I published that whenever I was in a party or ‘social occasion with alcohol’ I used to drink to get drunk and am now 20 (actually 22) days mindfully, purposefully, intentionally sober, then this company doesn’t deserve to have me work for them after all.

I won’t hide behind my smiling photos on social media. Neither will I keep everything I have to write in a journal shoved in my nightstand drawer. My life evolves when I read honest stories from other women. When I look at my photos on Instagram all I can think is:

-Do they know?

-Do all these friends who liked this photo know what I’m really going through?

-Did you feel jealous? Please don’t. Let me tell you why…

Come read about my journey.

I love you.

You will be okay. I’ll be okay.

We are in this together. We’ve got this.

T.