You Don’t Owe Anyone Your Whole Life Story

A couple months ago, I wrote about how vulnerability is a writer’s most powerful tool.

It seems like people are figuring out that appearing polished and perfect online can actually turn readers off — we all want to see someone who comes across as human.

And we’ve all seen how the stories in which an author really bares their soul seem to go viral.

I love practicing vulnerability in my work. When I was applying to colleges, I wrote about failing my driver’s test for my common app essay.

When I write about wellness, I always start by explaining how un-well I was only a year ago and where my journey began.

When I write about freelancing, I write about my insecurities and fears and the obstacles I’m facing.

It was scary at first, but it became easier with time. Stepping into authenticity is so fulfilling, and there’s nothing like seeing a reader comment, “Thank you for this! I was struggling with the same thing.”

Vulnerability brings people together. Most people are fearful and insecure, and I don’t mean this as an insult at all.

It’s a natural result of the society we live in.

We’re looking at highlight reels on social media all day, constantly seeing ads that tell us we’re not good enough, feeling intense pressure to say/do/believe all the right things at a time when even a minor disagreement over, say, a political tweet can set off a massive public battle.

It’s exhausting.

So when we see someone who gets comfy with their screw ups, someone who forgave themselves for the same mistakes we’ve made, someone who accepts — or at least openly acknowledges — their flaws without shame, we breath a sigh of relief. I’m not alone, we think.

But when you’re the writer behind the screen, the one pouring all of that vulnerability into your articles and revealing your personal life to your readers, you may end up asking yourself — how far do I have go with this?

When you start sharing those pieces of your life, the things that many others would rather keep hidden, there may come a day when you wonder, “Should I really write about (insert traumatic memory/extremely sensitive issue/dramatic relationship conflict here)?”

And despite all of your previous willingness to be vulnerable, your heart might respond with a resounding, “No.”

There have been times when I’ve strongly considered writing a super personal article, and sometimes really wanted to write that article, and had to stop because of the nature of the piece.

I might have been unable to tell the story without including details of someone else’s life that they would not be happy with me sharing publicly.

It might have contained information that I wouldn’t really be comfortable with all of my friends and relatives knowing — my mom has a tendency to randomly send my articles to my grandparents, and my sisters like to Google our names and see what comes up.

It might simply concern an issue that I’m not ready to write about just yet — perhaps some time in the future, but not now.

And frankly, if I know that writing a certain article could inspire backlash that I’m not willing or prepared to deal with at that moment, I’ll probably hold back, at least for the time being.

I know that may seem silly — we’re supposed to publish without caring what anyone will think, right? — but let’s be honest, we care do about what our readers think. As someone who deals with anxiety, I take baby steps when it comes to publishing controversial content — I don’t want to wake up to a load of notifications telling me what an idiot I am.

Maybe there will be a day when negative comments online don’t affect me, but today is not that day. I’ve certainly become more open to criticism, but I have to be honest about the state of my mental health when publishing, because hitting that “disable comments” button doesn’t quite sit right with me (nothing against other writers who do it — it’s just not my preference).

Sometimes, choosing not to publish something personal and vulnerable makes me feel like I’m doing my readers a disservice — I’m supposed to be an open book, right?

But the truth is that we’re not entitled to every chapter of someone else’s story. Even if you feel totally comfortable with sharing 95% of your life with your readers, you can keep 5% totally private.

We live in an age where our professional and personal lives are often blended, especially if you’re pursuing a creative career path. If you want them to be one and the same, more power to you. If you’d rather just muddy the waters a bit and keep the rest to yourself, that’s fine too.

We can set boundaries in our work. Even when some people will expect us to tell all, we’re allowed to maintain our privacy.

You don’t owe the Internet your entire life story. You can exercise discretion.

Everyone has their own limits when it comes to vulnerability, and there is no reason to feel guilty about maintaining yours.