Enough Is Never Enough
On my incessant need for validation and resisting the urge to pack up my toys and go home
Hi Friends,
You may have noticed my newsletter hasn’t made its way to your inbox for a few weeks. Or, with summer winding down and your Fall to-do lists kicking in, maybe not.
Either way, my plan was to pretend no time had passed since my last post and to publish my interview with a business friend about her experience with ketamine-assisted therapy (which I’m super excited about.)
Then I remembered that when I started working through the things that happened in my childhood two years ago, I promised myself I wouldn’t ignore, gloss over, suppress, or detach from difficult experiences and emotions anymore.
And who knows? You might be going through something similar; at the very least, we can commiserate.
Christy
P.S. Interview to come next week.
I'm always striving to find the best balance between living my life and sharing parts of it online with friends, family, acquaintances, and (for many years) potential clients.
Over the years, that meant periodically reevaluating my relationship with social media and adjusting the amount of time, energy, and money I invested into showing up on those platforms.
As a copywriter and email marketing strategist for personal brands, my business relied heavily on my online presence. My goal was always to direct people to my website and/or email list, but I knew that potential clients would only choose to work with me if they felt a connection with me, and social media was a great place to build trust.
After a while, creating content for social media started to feel less like a creative way to showcase my personality and more like a daily reminder of how I didn't measure up to other people in my industry.
This post didn't get enough likes. Nobody commented on that post.
I became obsessed with writing the cleverest captions and choosing graphics that would grab people's attention, hoping to finally get the approval I didn't realize I had been seeking.
One day, I realized I was spending more time curating my online brand than living my actual life, so I decided to press pause on social media for five or six months.
This was a time of transition for me in many ways. My husband Steve and I had just moved to a farm, I completed my first few sessions of MDMA-assisted therapy, and I was starting to seriously consider quitting my business to write a memoir.
During this time, I was introduced to Substack, and it was like the proverbial breath of fresh air. There was no algorithm to worry about, and I could write whatever I wanted without thinking about the reaction I'd get because nobody knew me here.
Being a newbie on this platform gave me the freedom to mine my own stories (instead of my copywriting clients’), experiment with different ways of telling them, and practice being a writer versus a marketer.
And up until a few months ago, that seemed like enough. But as soon as I decided to get more strategic about Substack by creating a content plan, being active on Notes, and showing up in various Substack comment threads, it started to feel like social media 2.0.
There isn't anything wrong with wanting to grow on this platform, and doing any and all of the things I mentioned is fine. But once I realized I was letting the response from others (or lack thereof) determine how I felt about my writing - and worse, my worth, I had to reevaluate again and figure out how to keep showing up in a way that feels good.
It's tricky because I do want people to read my work. And I want people to like it. I don't know a single writer that doesn't. If we're being honest, none of us writes anything in the hopes that no one will read it or that everyone will hate what we’ve written.
The truth is, I don't know how to completely resolve my need for approval and validation in these online spaces. I don't know how to resist the urge to pack up my toys and go home whenever I feel like I don't get enough. All I can do is continue to comfort the part of me that needs the reassurance.
Also, it can't hurt to remember why I started writing on Substack in the first place: to practice my craft, connect with other writers, and share resources for other complex trauma survivors. I’ll start there.
Ah yes, relating to all of this. And also the underlying sense of constant “responsibility” to reply, comment or engage. I, too, want to feel a freedom of expression (or lack thereof) over here on Substack and I take comfort in sending that most of us over here want the same. I support you in however you want to show up (or not!) ❤️
I love love love your insightful writing. I've personally been taking a break from reading trauma, as I realized I'd been immersed in it on varying levels for about ... six, seven months? I've been deep in therapy and examining wounds and looking for lights in the dark (how you even started a blog at this time, OF COURSE you did!) that I didn't even know existed. I took breaks from the podcasts I listen to, I unfollowed some accounts that have spoken to me, but now just remind me of trauma. I'm always reading your work, as I didn't know this about you and I love learning more about you.
I'm considering MDMA therapy and ketamine to get into my ish, but I'm hesitant because what if it opens a flood gate that can't be closed, etc, etc.
I'm also reconsidering writing my book, which I did about 13 years ago (reconsider the book I was going to write). But now I'm farther into my trauma and therapy and I've come so far INTO it (just GOING into the deep dark places after so long HIDING it from myself has been so huge), do I stop now only to continue in another 13 years? But maybe it'll be a light in the dark or a buoy in a rough sea for someone else along their journey into their own pain.
You're a light, a buoy. I'm sorry you feel like you're in the dark. Maybe the ones who are beacons just can't see all the light they're surrounded by.
Um....please also discuss the farmmmmmm!!!!