So we have recently discovered a little show from New Zealand called 800 words. Some of the themes resonate-being the "new" person in a small town, for example. Writing as catharsis and therapy. Except the main character's writing was a column, and he had a particular need to keep it just squarely, precisely at 800 words.
If you've read much of my blog, you will have noticed I have no such discipline. Not that in other areas of my life people haven't wished for a little conciseness on my end.
... I started to publish a little "blog". (Not quite as poetic as four score and seven years ago, nor was it quite such a dramatic event, either).
But, nonetheless, for me, it was life changing. Life. Changing.
There is no way that 10 years ago, sitting on my bed with my laptop in a little town in the midwest where it likely had snowed that day would I have guessed I'd have been here, now, in such a different place.
Then, I was grieving. Fortunately, I was also growing.
Now a decade later, I know that I still have some of the ghosts of then to deal with, but I am in such a different place. Physically and mentally.
In the theoretical ideal therapy world, the patient does all the talking, and the therapist only has to nod and say "uh, huh" and "how does that make you feel?" every once in awhile. The great lesson of therapy is that the patient has all the answers already, and the therapist just helps to provide a forum to work it through. An ideally objective third party to re-hash your hash and help you re-shape your story into a productive one, as needed.
I was broke, and poor, and barely working then. That was a bit of a luxury for me. So I had you. Faceless, nameless folks, some of whom I have gotten to know, where I could share my pearls of wisdom (a recent Jeopardy answer), my wit, my thoughts. Where I could step up onto my soap box. Where I could find different ways to express my story that were productive.
Didn't know I'd find a wife, but I was, indeed, searching for a community, for companionship - safely from an anonymous distance. The anonymity brought safety. In a small town, there isn't a lot of anonymity - particularly when you're the "new" girl (although by then I had been there a few years). And some of what I needed to work through was too raw to do with people I'd have to look in the eye again, and who might, gently, share what I had shared. But you, faceless anonymous community I could look away from if I needed to.
And, clearly, at times over this past decade, I have. Not because I didn't need you any more or that you had done anything to offend me. But because my life filled up and I didn't have quite as much time sitting alone in a bed with time to write, and things to say, and no-one to say them to. I'd like to think this blog still has some life in it, despite periods of hibernation. I'd like to think there are still random people out there who might want to hear what I have to say, and who might want to challenge me to think of things, too.
We'll see... But 10 years and five days ago... I took steps to change my life. And I have done so nearly every day since then...
