It is. I know it is. And yet, knowing it, I still do it.
I'm writing a memoir. I tell myself -- and the few other people I get brave enough to tell, except one -- that it's only for myself, a form of self-therapy, that I have no intention of ever trying to get it published. Why would I? Why would anyone want to read my story?
I know the answer. It's the same reason I read other people's memoirs and blogs. I enjoy it, and it helps me, helps me see that it's not just me, that other people go through the same things I do, have the same problems, the same self-destructive, self-sabotaging thoughts and fears. My story might help others and others' stories have helped me.
Then why am I afraid to say that to people? And why am I afraid to write it?