The fear of being seen is real. So is the freedom of being yourself anyway.

I’ve been thinking a lot about honesty in writing. I want these posts to sound like me — my true voice, unfiltered, unedited, fully honest. But when I sit down to write something I plan to share, it’s like a wall goes up.

Suddenly, there’s a version of me standing between my thoughts and the page — cleaning things up, censoring, asking “Are you really going to share that?”

When I journal, I feel connected. Free. I write without editing, and the words pour out. But when I sit down to write publicly, an editor version of me takes over. And the words that felt honest and alive suddenly feel distant and watered down.

I think part of this is normal. The public self is always going to be a little different than the private one. And I get it — journals aren’t always coherent. Mine are often just emotional run-ons, sometimes even unreadable. But still, something in me longs to write more freely, even in public. I want to say what’s real. Not the septic, neutralized version of everything.

There are a few writers and creators out there who do this really well. They say what’s true for them. They share openly. I admire that so much — and I want that for me too.

So what’s stopping me?

Fear.

Fear of being fully seen.

Fear of someone not agreeing with me and taking that as a rejection of me as a person.

I’m a people pleaser. I hate tension. I can walk into a room and immediately sense if someone is annoyed, and I either try to fix it or run from it.

So to write something honest, and risk someone disagreeing with it — or worse, mocking it — feels terrifying. If someone comments something negative, I’ll spiral. I’ve done it before.

When I launched my first app on the App Store over a decade ago, one bad review crushed me. I took it so personally. I wanted to pull the app down, disappear, and never create again.

That one person, one comment, made me question everything. And the wildest part? So many other people loved the app. I got emails years later from users who were devastated when I had to shut it down. They couldn’t find anything like it. It helped them. It brought them joy.

But I almost erased all of that because one person didn’t like it.

That’s what fear does. It gives strangers enormous power. It convinces us that everyone’s judgment matters equally — even when it doesn’t.

Here’s what I try to remember now: you will never please everyone. You will never create something that doesn’t attract criticism. Someone will always roll their eyes or leave a snarky comment or tell you you’re wrong.

That’s not a reason to stop. It’s a reason to keep going.

Why? Because there’s a reason they’re in the comments, and you’re the one clicking publish.

I love that line. It’s become one of my mantras.

They’re in the comments.

You’re the one creating.

There’s a story I keep coming back to about crabs once they’re caught. It’s anecdotal, but apparently, when crabs are caught, they are placed in a bucket. And when one tries to escape, the others pull it back down. They don’t want it to break away. Evolution tells them: stay together, stay safe.

Humans aren’t so different. We fear people who act differently. We like what feels familiar. It’s why salespeople mirror your preferences. We trust people who seem like us.

So when someone expresses themselves honestly, creatively, or courageously — it can feel like a threat to those who haven’t done the same. The instinct is to grab them and pull them back down.

That’s what a lot of trolling and hate comments are. It’s not about you. It’s about them — their fear, their shame, their regret, their stuck-ness.

They’re not mad at you. They’re mad that you’re doing something they’re afraid to do.

So here’s how I handle it now:

If there’s something useful in a comment, I extract it. I rewrite it in my mind without the snark and ask myself, “Is this helpful?”

If yes, I consider it.

If not, I let it go.

Because not all feedback is for you. Some of it is just a reflection of someone else’s pain.

So here’s what I want you to remember:

Be the person clicking publish.

Be the one brave enough to create.

There will always be people who try to bring you down. But there are far more people who will cheer you on, share your work, and be moved by your voice.

They’re waiting for you.

Don’t let fear make you forget that.

If you’ve ever held back from sharing your work because of fear, I hope this reminds you:

You’re not alone.

You’re not too sensitive.

You’re not wrong for wanting to be liked.

But your voice matters.

And someone out there needs to hear it.

💬 Hit reply and tell me:

What’s one thing you’ve been holding back from sharing?