We Had A Five Year Run
November 11, 2012 § 11 Comments
Let me preface this by saying that I began blogging in 2007; I’ve blogged hundreds if not thousands of pages and have had the opportunity to be buoyed through a difficult time by the IF community. My blog has evolved as my life has evolved.
I began this as a writing exercise, really — back when I left my job for a sabbatical that would actually become a leave of absence — and then my resignation — I came to what I had always known — the page, to work things out.
I didn’t always know why I was blogging — but what I know is that this community, its support, and this blog in both of its incarnations have been a lifeline for me through what was the heartbreak of infertility and the overwhelming new terrain of motherhood.
As a writer we always, in graduate school, would ask those questions — about what it meant to be a memoirist — what responsibility you had to the truth, to your readers — to the other people who share your narrative — because it’s their story too.
Through the evolution of this blog I came to a different place in my life than when I’d begun — as a writer, stepmother, member of a blended family — mother to a newborn… now toddler; in the interim the blogging world and the social media world became a completely different place, things moving at hyper-speed. I have never been sure what my role in this new media world was — have always felt like an old dog wrestling with a new trick.
Today X, who I will now refer to by a different set of initials, SW (for sister-wife — though we are not in a polygamous family we are in a blended family and in some ways she’s become closer to me than family) texted me to let me know she had found my blog. We talked about it. She was gracious, though distressed as anyone would be if you came across the blog unbeknownst to you — and I was immediately reminded of the responsibility we have to one another — even when writing our own narratives.
I came to this place mostly to chronicle the frustrations, perhaps not as much to laud the successes — and there have been many.
Today, for the first time in years — seriously, I barely get the traffic anymore to warrant positive comments let alone negative ones — I received a really nasty personal comment on my Halloween post. I don’t think these events are related — but just in the same way some faceless stranger’s words can seem hurled at me and sting — it isn’t lost on me that kind of impact it has when someone who knows us, and loves us, writes about us.
I’ve written, as those of you who have followed this blog (all two of you 😉 ) much more extensively about my mother and my family — and I have to spend some time really thinking about what to do with the material I’ve written here — and how I would feel if my mother were to read the things I’ve written — regardless of the blanket permission she’s always granted me.
I’m in a strange place because while I stand by every word I’ve written on this blog — and am proud of my craft — I am keenly aware of how we brush up against one another in this world — and what responsibility we have to hold one another’s hearts and be as gentle as we can be.
In the solipsism of writing my own narrative I didn’t take enough care, and for that, I am sorry, both to SW who has given me one of the greatest gifts of my life — the mothering of W — and to anyone else who may see their reflection here (or perhaps not see your reflection at all) and have been hurt by me — I am so deeply, profoundly sorry.
This blog will undoubtedly be changed. I am assuming that this is now a room that people will visit and leave with intentions that are different than they may have been before — people who know me peripherally or not at all, people with whom I’ve shared little more than a smile, handshake or polite conversation.
It’s all here and you are welcome.
To my longtime readers: I love you and would not have made it to this balanced, happy, solid place without you.