My Substack isn't anonymous, and I'm slightly known in Egyptology circles for my photography. My husband knows about my Substack (I often get him to read what I've written before I post it just to get a second pair of eyes to make sure I'm not making a fool of myself 😅
However, I've never shared it with the rest of my family or my friends - never advertised it on my personal Facebook profile. It would feel weird and too 'look at me' if I did ...
I needed this post today. Thank you. I have a SS that I have not developed for the very reasons that you speak about- I was intimidated by a couple of early comments (criticisms). It totally shifted my energy. I have been developing a new essay (in my head) for some weeks now. I am gathering the materials that I need to write it, have scrubbed and rewritten it at least three times, and am determining how 'technical' I want it to be. Does it need to have citations or not, as an example.
I have run the gamut of reasons why I *should not* write, *should not* post. I have this desire, that is coupled with ADHD/Autistic fear. Your article helped me to acknowledge that 1) I don't need people to like or agree with me (people pleasing 101), 2) I can ignore the comments (assuming I receive any), 3) I can write for my own sake, make mistakes, and still have a 'work in progress' that I need not feel shame over.
Thank you Josh of the Many Josh Hudson's out there.
Very few people in my real life know about my Substack. I want to be able to write about deep things here, without having to justify my feelings. I don't want to explain myself, or defend my diagnosis journey. I don't want my mother to know the depth of fatigue I feel as a caregiver, or that my relationship with my brother still weighs heavily on me. But I need to write, and for some reason, I need my voice to be heard. Some days I feel more "me" as Amber than I do in real life. Substack, and specifically the community I've found here, is a sanctuary.
Thank you so much for your candid and mindful thoughts. Honestly, and I mean, totally, I am so glad to have you and this substack community in my life. I had been looking for a "home" for several years after experiencing a huge mix of criticism and support. The criticism was often hateful and not even relevant to my writing.
My colleagues were not, and are still not, able to get it. My readers who have lived the experience of what we currently call ADHD and/or ASD get it. 272 comments on a video interview I did in 2014 convinced me I was on the right track with understanding and explaining an experience that I spent over 15 years "embedded" in the "neurodivergent" world. As a non-neurodivergent (but a-typical by all accounts in that world of the typicals). Lots of ostracism and ghosting. YouTube interview at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=npp7-Rsa-Bk
It hurt enough to make me hesitate to write about my findings for several years. I am only getting back to it because of substack's vibe. I kept my knowledge base updated by continuing to read the literature to make sure that what I said in 2013 was still supported. Now that I am up to date for the years 2013 to 2024 (3,500 pages of intense reading), I am ready to get going on the helping folks solve the dopamine dilemma of ADHD. My motto has become sort of something like: "You can call me tentative, just don't call me lazy...
I feel sort of the same way - I'm eager to share what I know and what I'm feeling when the posts are ready, and ensuring that what I am writing is authentic and not me employing some sort of mask in the aims of appeasing my audience. However, the sharing aspect is the one thing that gets me. There's also sort of this balancing act - how much time should I be writing, how much time should I be reading other people's work (including yours, which is always a pleasant thing to see in my inbox) and how much time I should be promoting my own work.
Echoing a bit with what Tracey said, I do have a bit of fear when I put stuff into the world. Mostly it comes from my underlying desire of being perfect, which, as I've been told many times and I tell myself that internally, is impossible.
My Substack isn't anonymous, and I'm slightly known in Egyptology circles for my photography. My husband knows about my Substack (I often get him to read what I've written before I post it just to get a second pair of eyes to make sure I'm not making a fool of myself 😅
However, I've never shared it with the rest of my family or my friends - never advertised it on my personal Facebook profile. It would feel weird and too 'look at me' if I did ...
I needed this post today. Thank you. I have a SS that I have not developed for the very reasons that you speak about- I was intimidated by a couple of early comments (criticisms). It totally shifted my energy. I have been developing a new essay (in my head) for some weeks now. I am gathering the materials that I need to write it, have scrubbed and rewritten it at least three times, and am determining how 'technical' I want it to be. Does it need to have citations or not, as an example.
I have run the gamut of reasons why I *should not* write, *should not* post. I have this desire, that is coupled with ADHD/Autistic fear. Your article helped me to acknowledge that 1) I don't need people to like or agree with me (people pleasing 101), 2) I can ignore the comments (assuming I receive any), 3) I can write for my own sake, make mistakes, and still have a 'work in progress' that I need not feel shame over.
Thank you Josh of the Many Josh Hudson's out there.
Very few people in my real life know about my Substack. I want to be able to write about deep things here, without having to justify my feelings. I don't want to explain myself, or defend my diagnosis journey. I don't want my mother to know the depth of fatigue I feel as a caregiver, or that my relationship with my brother still weighs heavily on me. But I need to write, and for some reason, I need my voice to be heard. Some days I feel more "me" as Amber than I do in real life. Substack, and specifically the community I've found here, is a sanctuary.
I started an anonymous Ss recently, writing under a pseudonym. I need a place to write and reflect honestly.
Thank you so much for your candid and mindful thoughts. Honestly, and I mean, totally, I am so glad to have you and this substack community in my life. I had been looking for a "home" for several years after experiencing a huge mix of criticism and support. The criticism was often hateful and not even relevant to my writing.
My colleagues were not, and are still not, able to get it. My readers who have lived the experience of what we currently call ADHD and/or ASD get it. 272 comments on a video interview I did in 2014 convinced me I was on the right track with understanding and explaining an experience that I spent over 15 years "embedded" in the "neurodivergent" world. As a non-neurodivergent (but a-typical by all accounts in that world of the typicals). Lots of ostracism and ghosting. YouTube interview at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=npp7-Rsa-Bk
It hurt enough to make me hesitate to write about my findings for several years. I am only getting back to it because of substack's vibe. I kept my knowledge base updated by continuing to read the literature to make sure that what I said in 2013 was still supported. Now that I am up to date for the years 2013 to 2024 (3,500 pages of intense reading), I am ready to get going on the helping folks solve the dopamine dilemma of ADHD. My motto has become sort of something like: "You can call me tentative, just don't call me lazy...
Thank you Josh!
I feel sort of the same way - I'm eager to share what I know and what I'm feeling when the posts are ready, and ensuring that what I am writing is authentic and not me employing some sort of mask in the aims of appeasing my audience. However, the sharing aspect is the one thing that gets me. There's also sort of this balancing act - how much time should I be writing, how much time should I be reading other people's work (including yours, which is always a pleasant thing to see in my inbox) and how much time I should be promoting my own work.
Echoing a bit with what Tracey said, I do have a bit of fear when I put stuff into the world. Mostly it comes from my underlying desire of being perfect, which, as I've been told many times and I tell myself that internally, is impossible.