My Substack Bully

We're still in high school, and it's keeping us stuck

In July, I started this Substack. I was craving a place that I could create for the sake of creating.

No…

How can this lead to an offer?
How will I monetize?
Is this what my niche wants?

I wanted to remember what it felt like to write, without an agenda.

I published my first post, Just For Me, and had no intention of sharing it. Writing the post reminded me of one of my favorite articles I wrote—Is anyone reading this?​

It prompted me to throw my first Substack note into the universe.

Writers of Substack:

If no one reads your writing, is it still worth doing?

The post went viral-ish. (Maybe bacterial?) Over the next week, it would receive 100’s of comments. It was a surprising yet fun welcome to the app.

But it was also antithetical to the reason I got there. Now I had tasted the dopamine of sudden attention from hundreds of strangers.

I found someone on Substack had posted the same post, word-for-word. Not that my idea was completely original, but I knew this guy, like many Substackers, was trying to use proven formulas to hack the system.

So I ended up posting a screenshot and asking this question.

That’s when I got the comment from someone.

“You all do the same Grift.”

I responded. Bad idea. Give an internet bully an inch, and they’ll take a foot.

I tried explaining myself and linked to an article where I shared this topic before Substack.

He came back, ripping my website apart, calling me an unoriginal writer, and spewing useless platitudes.

I responded again—mistake #2.

He then took 3 feet. I wish I could share what he wrote, but I can no longer find the comments. I can’t remember if I deleted them or if Substack blocked him, since I can’t imagine I was his only target.

What he said was comical, but it was his energy that threw me. I could sense aggression and malice, and it was destabilizing.

I can’t fathom how some people can stir up debate online. Whenever I have an internet conflict, I can’t sleep, so I try to avoid it at all costs.

I realize that it stems from my teen years. When I started dating my high school girlfriend, this guy who really liked her egged my car. It started this whole AIM chat drama (remember AIM?!), where his friends would message me, trying to incite a fight.

All I wanted was for that situation to go away, but I was being called a pussy if I didn’t stand up for myself. Amidst intense fear, I forced myself to confront this guy, and luckily, it fizzled out.

Fast forward 18 years, and my Substack bully brings up the same feelings.

In high school, if I ran from it, it would grow stronger. I would see people at school and constantly fear what messages I would get back home.

Online strangers are different. This person doesn’t know me, but there is still this primal fear that tomorrow, if I go to “Substack school”, this bully will be there.

So my protective part kicked in—I stopped showing up on Substack.

This experience highlights my core block.

On one hand, I want to be successful and the fame and attention that comes with it.

On the other hand, I want to avoid conflict and people disliking me.

Yet if I look at anyone with notable success, their comments section is filled with haters.

If I want to be seen, I need to allow the good with the bad.

A coach recently told me that my content is very agreeable. I rarely take a stance that may elicit opposition. He’s right. I see it as this childhood part protecting itself—not wanting to confront the bully and feel those feelings again.

But I’m not 17 anymore.

And neither are you.

Although we’ve grown up, many of us are still in high school.

If you’re working on something that asks you to put yourself in the world, there are likely childhood wounds getting in the way.

There are protective parts that see being visible as unsafe.

Maybe you’ll be kicked out of your friend group.
Maybe you’ll be laughed at in gym class.
Maybe you’ll be asked to prom by the coolest kid in school, and then get egged when you show up to their house.

(Sorry, that last one is from the plot of Never Been Kissed.)

Whatever you do, some people won’t agree. They won’t like you. Some will want to tear you down.

Don’t let them get to you like I let this guy get to me. Don’t even give them attention.

When you get a hater, the best thing to do is CELEBRATE.

It means you are putting yourself out there enough to get someone who doesn’t like it.

Remember, their comments say more about them than you.

If you keep showing up amidst the fear, you retrain your body so that it’s safe to be seen.

We need you to show up for your gifts.

Whatever your childhood wounds are, work with them. If you want someone skilled in navigating protective parts, hit reply.

Or let me know what this stirred up. I always love hearing from you.

And if you’re craving nervous system support for the emotional ups and downs of the creative journey, check out my free community, Meraki Sessions, and join weekly classes and community calls for people doing meaningful, heart-led work in the world.