From Aug 3, 2009
Much of my past several weeks has my mind consumed by thoughts of what it is that I’m doing here. Not necessarily of what I am doing here on this planet, in this small suburban city, but of what I’m doing here. On this blog.
There’s a little internal tension within me for having so many of my real life acquaintances knowing personally the author of this blog, and there’s always a chance that I might (and probably will) say something that offends some of the people I care about. For example, it’s difficult for me to write about my childhood, knowing that exposing some skeletons might hurt my mother. In addition, if I write about things or people who are close to me, I might offend one of those folks. I have and I’ve done it more than once, and have ended relationships over this very thing. Obviously, my intention is never to offend. However, sometimes in working out how I feel about certain things, I invariably do. In some cases, I am perfectly okay with it. In most cases, I am not because I certainly wouldn’t hurt someone in person– why would I come online and hurt people? It just doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.
However, there are times when emotion wells up in me so deeply that I cannot contain it. Words come out, and it isn’t until I have clicked the publish button, re-reading what it is that I’ve written, that I finally figure out how I felt, or why I was feeling that way. The healthiest thing I ever did for myself was to write. And write and write and write. I credit my extreme psychological well-being to blogging. It’s been a miraculous tool for self-enlightenment and evaluation of the difficult scenarios that dance inside my head. And truly, I’ve not even scaled the surface.
Simultaneously while worrying about whether I am handling my version of the truth with just the right amount of gingerness, I have also created a semi-decent following of readers who come here because they want to know what I have to say. I’d like to think that maybe even a few of them are excited about my writing capacity and/or care about my success in life. To withhold any part of what I’ve been writing here would be to withhold a piece of myself from this blogger’s reality I have created. I have gained some intense friendships with my fellow bloggers. I delight in their joys and I cry through their losses. I send healing energy when they or their children are sick, and send notes of encouragement when they are blue. And you know, I’ve received back tenfold these lovely supports from all of you.
Clearly, what I write isn’t for those who are offended. The fact is that what I write is for me. And the support I get from what I write is for me. It’s selfish, and I intend on keeping it that way. My life has changed dramatically, and you all have been cheering me along the way. I’m grateful. Truly.
It’s too late to pull the anonymous card for those who know me in real life. I have this blog attached to my Facebook, for cryin’ out loud. And honestly, those of you who both know me from real life and regularly read what I write are not those from whom I’d like to gain anonymity. It’s those who do not read my work often enough to know where my soul is, from whom I’d like to protect myself. Those who read my work regularly have a pretty solid idea of who I am, and where I’m coming from. Those who do not can easily take anything I say out of context and will gladly decide that what I’m saying here was directly meant to bombard you personally, and that is probably only because you know me personally. Very few folks that only know me from my written works have taken offense to something which I’ve written here. And in fact, most folks who do not know me in person are capable of approaching me without fear of my reaction or of me not hearing your disagreement for the level which YOU are presenting it.
Why there is such a silly paradigm, I don’t know. How it is that those who know me in real life really know very little of who I am deep down, somewhat baffles me. Of course, in real life there’s usually a veil of professionalism, and often a prim and proper place that I use as a backdrop to my self presentation. This is what I was taught– I can’t change this, but it certainly doesn’t mean that who I am in real life varies at all from who I am, presented here. It’s just a limited version in real life. People who have known me for years simply do not know me unless they have kept up with me here. The growth, the changes, they’re all documented. And I’ve willingly laid it all out for all to see: the painful and the beautiful, and everything in between.
I haven’t written much lately, and I’m sure you’ll all forgive me because you probably know exactly what I was up to in my intermittent shortened blog posts. Alas, the degree is finished, and I am moving on to a place where suddenly I have significantly more time and attention to focus on my passions, one of which is writing. My writers block was a self-induced distraction-eliminating hazard placed in my path of telling these stories simply so that I could prevent myself from wasting time when every single ounce of my focus needed to be education-focused. I am excited to be back in business, and I’m motivated to tell these stories again. I’m motivated by the desire to write something beautiful– to prove to myself that I can do it. And to prove to you.
Not that you all need much convincing. But if you don’t follow this normally, then perhaps you might. And that is okay, too. I just want you to know that if you don’t follow me here normally, that you’ll have to play a little catch up and leave judgment at the door. I’m about to man the ship again, and a thought experiement is near formation. Join me if you will, but consider this your disclaimer.
