Posted on | September 20, 2012 | 15 Comments
When I first started to blog, I did so to create a platform for preserving my memories about J and his life. I wanted a place I could go back and look at, to read and remember all the silly moments of his life and the silly feelings I felt as he grew. I wanted it to be about our lives; mine, my son’s and my husband’s. And for a while, that’s all it was. I wrote about poop and pee and how I felt when he first said words. I wrote about how he threw food or loved ducks or hell, anything at all that seemed to pop into my head.
And I loved it.
I loved the camaraderie of other bloggers. I loved the sweet comments and funny responses. I loved how we were all one little community, building each other up and supporting each other with our words and our humor.
Little by little, my friends outside of the computer started to read. My family started to read. Other bloggers started to read.
And suddenly there was a little group of people, my sweet voyeurs, who stopped in and witnessed the wonder of being a first time mom alongside me.
Then my world collapsed when my husband left, and that little group grew bigger. Pretty soon, there were friends of friends reading, co-workers, girlfriends, boyfriends, random people who lived down the street. I got recognized at a park once, pointed out in the grocery store. Several friends implored me to stop… they said it was too raw, too real. They said it wasn’t polite to be so open, wasn’t safe to share so much. They said I’d regret being so open with my heart. But I kept sharing because it was cathartic for me. It made me feel better to pour out the words and to know, or believe, that what I was saying might help someone else. And everyone here in this space was so kind… so supportive… so gentle with my broken heart. I couldn’t believe that there were people out there who would forget that there’s a real person behind this blog… a real heart, real feelings, real tears.
As I healed, I continued to share more about myself… more about my life. I spilled about dating and working and being a single mom. And as I wrote, I believed wholeheartedly that the support and the love from my circle of voyeurs would continue. But that was foolish, I guess. Because some people just want to tear you down for the sake of having something to say… for the sake of a laugh… for the sake of being important, even if just for a moment.
Today, for the first time in the almost three years I’ve been blogging, the words I’ve poured out in this space have been used to hurt me. My little corner of the internet that used to feel so safe just doesn’t anymore. It feels… broken.
And I don’t know how to come back from that.