Over the last several months I’ve been asked why I blog and why I share my life so openly through social media, and I’ve been reflecting on those questions and my answers.
First, I think it’s important to note that I don’t say nearly as much as I used to online. I’ve been writing here for nearly 7 years. I stopped sharing as much as I used to for a few reasons:
- Sometimes sharing my feelings isn’t worth opening myself up to criticism from strangers
- When I got involved in a loving and accepting faith community I no longer felt as compelled to seek out virtual support because I could just get a hug from a friend if I needed one
- I no longer need the constant validation that I once got from pouring out my feelings here
- There are folks in the blogosphere who constantly yammer on about tolerance, yet they’re harsh when they come here to spew their intolerant nonsense
- I stopped losing weight and started gaining instead, which made me feel like a piece of crap who doesn’t deserve to blog here anymore
- Sometimes I don’t want people to think I’m struggling even though I am, and that’s where it gets dangerous for me
As a result of changes, personal growth and let’s be honest, embarrassment, I don’t share as much as I once did, but I’m still relatively open about my life because I don’t want to revert back to my old habits. And there are some pretty specific reasons for that too.
- When I bottle up my feelings they eventually explode into an emotional mess.
- It is very easy for me to let pride take over, and when that happens I don’t let anyone in.
- Often times when I stop writing I turn to food
- It’s much more cathartic to write here than it is to day dream about punching people in the throat. (Okay, I’m kidding…I don’t actually want to throat punch anyone, at least most of the time.)
- it allows me to release my feelings, look at them in black and white and recognize that it’s not as bad as it seems.
Blogging may not be for everyone, but sometimes it helps me. On days like today, when my heart feels shattered by the harshness of reality, I come here because at one point there were people ready to remind me that I’m okay.
I know God loves me, and I wish I had the patience to wait on Him to heal my heart. Ultimately, that’s what I’ll do, but I’m not going to pretend I’m okay on days in which I’m not okay. And today, I’m not okay.
I could use a hug from friends and family, but I’m not with them. Instead I’m sitting in a hotel room alone, lamenting the fact that there’s no one here to hug me and kiss away my tears.
I’m worn out, and I’m hanging on to the hope that tomorrow will be a better day.