A Great Example

In my last post I discussed pursuing things that I'm afraid of, despite the fact that I'm afraid of them. Last week I was honored and horrified to find myself at the pinnacle of this paradox.

While I was in outpatient treatment last Spring I noticed a few people touring the facilities. Prospective patients regularly toured the facilities but it was rare to see healthy-looking people walking around with notebooks and cameras. They didn't speak with any of the patients; I assumed that they were part of the media and that they hadn't been granted access or were unsure how to approach us. After a little sleuthing I learned that the Managing Editor of 5280 was writing a story on the ERC. I got in touch with her and found myself being interviewed, one week later, about the story.

The editor was interested in my blog and spent some time looking it over. She deemed it worthy of a special section in the article. The Health Issue was released the first week in January, with a brief article on my story, my blog, and an excerpt. The article online can be accessed here:

Obviously, I wanted to tell my story and wanted, in some way, to be recognized for it. I offered to be interview and offered the link to my blog. I had to approve the story and send her a picture to include with it. And I wanted to keep blogging because I was aware that more people might log on. Still, it's nerve-racking to know that strangers might now tune in to the things I'm writing. I worry that they'll think my discussions are insignificant; after all, people are dying from terrorism and I'm agonizing over whether to eat a cupcake or an apple, run a mile or 10. Truly, I know that the things I deal with here are larger than food and exercise- the point is that eating disorders have very little to do with food. But everything I stress about can seem so useless in the grand scheme of things.

There are more worries. What if they think I'm a terrible writer? What if they like it and call me and offer me a book deal and I become Carrie Bradshaw? What if I think things like that and become totally dejected because they never happen? What if I don't have anything to write about?

My choices are clear. I can run away from this publicity, allowing my fears and hopes to overwhelm me. Or I can keep writing because I enjoy it, it helps me to notice the funny and beautiful things in my life, and because someone, somewhere, might be touched by my story. It's a way of communicating with the masses as much as my own parents; I know that they've read things here I'm too embarrassed to say to them directly. This blog serves a purpose and I'm grateful for it, no matter how many or how few people read it.

Being afraid and doing it anyway. Write on!