It felt like the same sort of anxiety I used to feel when writing about sex (that I still sometimes feel, especially since I'm so out of practice). The same sort of anxiety that comes with a lot of nonfiction writing in general, this exposure of self. It's something I'm used to pushing through, and normally, I feel better almost immediately upon writing and posting / sending out / publishing whatever it is. So I pushed through. But in this case, I think I'm so insecure about my academic professional status that that's just overriding my writerly certainties.
Oof. I'm also super short on sleep again, so I'm going to go upstairs and try to sleep. Hopefully tomorrow I'll feel better, and not quite so worried that I've somehow torpedoed my career with that little piece.
(For the record, several of my colleagues immediately sent me nice and reassuring notes, so this is not them. It's all me and my paranoid brain.)