A couple years ago I decided I needed a hobby.

I spin poi full time, creating videos and content and while I love getting to do a thing I enjoy full time it also taught me the value of having a thing in your life that you do casually and don’t necessarily need to invest yourself completely into.

In my infinite wisdom, I decided to start a second YouTube channel, sharing stories that I thought were interesting about science, math, economics, and pop culture. My first video was on the discovery of gravitational waves and I had a friend who’d worked for NASA on a similar project and could talk me through the more technical parts of it.

Then I did nothing with the channel for two years.

Two months ago, I decided once again that I needed a hobby and committed to doing a single video every month for this new channel. I started with a video on the 1990s comic book speculator bubble--a fun chapter in history that combined my love of economics with my love of comic books and geekery.

And nobody watched it.

I kind of took for granted what it’s like having an established audience and figured that if I produced a decent video and did my titles and tags right that people would find it. I was really wrong.

But still I stuck with my commitment and produced another video last week--this one on my top 10 scientific inaccuracies in the Jurassic Park franchise (I am a lifelong dinosaur nut). This time I decided to do something I hadn’t done before and tried promoting it to people I didn’t know. Specifically on the Jurassic Park and Dinosaur subreddits where I knew there would be people keen for new content with the new Jurassic World movie coming out.

And I felt something that I hadn’t felt in so long I’d totally forgotten when it was a regular part of my world as a content creator.

I felt fear.

All of the sudden, I was reminded of the fact that none of these people knew me. None of them trusted me. I wondered: would they rip apart my production values? Tell me I’d gotten my facts wrong? Troll me in general?

I actually thought long and hard about sharing my video and I almost didn’t do it. But finally I pulled the trigger and proceeded to gnaw through my nails as the views started to roll in.

As predicted: there were people who complained about the information I’d presented. There were people who complained about the video who clearly hadn’t watched it. All the things I was afraid were going to happen did--and it was fine.

I didn’t want to go delete my video or leave Reddit. I didn’t want to go stare at my belly button and wonder why I’d created the video in the first place.

I found that having my worst fears realized ultimately wasn’t as bad as I was expecting. I found that ultimately the fear in my head is far worse than the real world.

I know a lot of you likely wrestle with these same issues. Maybe you’d like to perform with your props, create online videos, or even just share your passion for spinning with your friends and family.

And what keeps you from doing it in a lot of cases is the fear. The fear of judgement, the fear of embarrassment, the fear of shame.

I think I needed a reminder of that fear. And a reminder that ultimately the negative consequences we dole out in our own minds are far worse than much of what the rest of the world has to offer.

So...if you’re afraid of sharing something you love and believe is beautiful, give it a shot anyhow. Despite getting the criticism I was afraid of, I also got tons of people who loved the video. Who found it informative and entertaining.

You never know when something you create is going to touch someone else. Don’t rob them of the chance to be inspired by what you do!

I’d also like to take this chance to thank you all...I haven’t felt that fear in a long time because over the past decade I’ve built a loyal audience of people who regularly tune into my content and trust me. Because of that I get to create with minimal fear and as I discovered last week, that is a huge gift.