Yesterday, I joined a friend for chicken salad & cupcakes & sweet tea.  We don’t do this often enough, but when I really start to miss her, a quick email & lunch date does the trick.  Our lunch dates began with her helping me limp along through postpartum depression, to new pregnancies & job changes & wondering, always wondering, if we’re doing right by our babies.

We began talking about blogging – conferences, sponsorships, traffic & posts & the urge to grow despite the pressure to succeed.  It’s a hard balance.

I worry about being irrelavent.

I fear nobody understanding or taking my words wrong; some nights, I feel anxiety over that blue “Publish” button.

I care about stats & yes, that summer slow-down where traffic goes belly-up while everyone is on vacation.  Even though I don’t want to care.

So I make resolutions not to check stats.  Then I break that resolution.

I doubt my ability by comparing myself to others.

I feel twinges of envy when a friend of mine gets a specific sponsor, opportunity, free lance gig, email, etc.

I hope to make Babble’s Top lists, even though I’ve never made one.

I tell myself that blog post isn’t good enough, funny enough, just…enough.  I get writer’s block from those thoughts.

I’m guilty of saying, “Just five more minutes…” on Twitter at the end of the night.

I think Neville is hot.  oops, I don’t know how that one got in there.

The point is, I think we’re all the same the moment we sit down to type out words.