A slightly dysfunctional relationship

I am in a slightly dysfunctional relationship. It's not with my husband, kids, family or friends- well, most of the time it's not. No, it's with publishing my writing. I work so hard at my craft and spend so much time researching journals to submit my work to so I obviously want this, right? And the few acceptances I've gotten- well, my family has come running into my office to see what all the commotion was about.

So I had this story posted on www.iterarymama.com last week. I spent all day checking to see if it was up yet although I knew it wouldn't be until much later in the evening so obviously there's some excitement going on. Then, finally it's there. There's my name with a link to my story. I click on it and there it is on the freakin' world wide web, for the whole freakin' world to see. What was I thinking? I felt like I was caught outside naked or worse, in high school naked. It's this odd other side of writing. As a writer I am a fairly private person. I mean I sit in a room basically daydreaming all day and trying to get those daydreams down onto paper or the screen. But when a piece is published suddenly all those private thoughts are plastered out there for anyone to see and interpret as they see fit. It's a little disconcerting. A tad unsettling. Especially when people read things into it that I hadn't intended or I apparently reveal things I hadn't intended. I'm not whining or complaining, really. I am beyond grateful to those editors who saw something in my stories that made them want to publish them. I guess I am still struggling to navigate this tricky balance between public and private.