When I first started this blog, all the way back in October last year (actually five months ago today, which is pretty cool) I didn’t really know what I was getting in to. I had been lurking on other people’s blogs for a while. I had even commented on a couple. I knew I was quite addicted to reading blogs but I had no idea that the act of blogging would become such an important release for me.
I remember when I decided (after a couple of days) to start deliberately, actively trying to get people to come and comment on my blog. I delurked on a bunch of blogs and I started using my URL when I commented. I took a few days but pretty soon I had my first commenter. Pretty soon I had a few people who were willing to come and comment on the drivel I write here.
In the last five months I’ve made some really fabulous bloggy friends. It has brought so much to my life to find that there are people out there that are just like me in so many ways. I love and need my friends in real life but on the internet so much is shared, so much is given generously, it is simple, few demands are made. I write stuff down (and, let’s face it, with me it is just any old crap I have floating about in the brain pan) and people come and read it and say stuff to me about it. I do the same for them. We share our stories. We find our common threads. There are different threads that tie me to each of my blogging friends. Each thread is some facet of my personality that is nurtured by the presence of that person in my feedreader. What could be more wonderful.
I mentioned that I had an accident recently when I took a trip into the world of alcohol fueled idiocy. Fine, a couple of friends who know me well already can know about my blog. I was a touch upset with myself but I soon realised that I didn’t really mind. These are not people who will judge me, no matter what I write, I could pretty much say anything to them they’ve pretty much seen me at my worst already. No big deal.
So, last week my friend S mentioned that she had opened up a Twitter account. I told her I was on there and we agreed that we would friend each other. Over the last few days I started having paranoid thoughts.
“What is she followed other people who know me in real life?”
“What if people find my blog? ”
“Oh shit. I am going to have to unfollow her and her husband and block them so they can’t follow me!”
I knew I was going to do this but I was putting it off. Knowing that my friend would probably roll her eyes and tease me a little bit for worrying about my anonymity. I knew she wouldn’t really care at all but I was embarrassed.
Then, tonight, I open the laptop and I have an email “suchandsuch is following you on twitter”. Oh crap.
I paniced and blocked my friend, her husband and this other person (also my friend but not someone I see as much).
I sent S an email apologising and having a little meltdown.
I had a big meltdown.
I had a big cry to Beefcake. I’m not sure he entirely understands but this blog is just mine. Just for me and my thoughts. You know, in Harry Potter, how Dumbledore had a pensieve. He would pull out the strands of memory, his thoughts, and place them in the pensieve for safekeeping. That’s kind of what my blog is to me. I need this room to lay out all the brain clutter. To connect with other people. It is mine, it is safe. Having everyone know about it feels like my mind being invaded. I know that this is a public space but there is a difference between public to a bunch of people you will never meet, most of whom are on the other side of the world, and people who you might see at a family function.
So, tonight I pulled my blog down for a little while. I had decided to start a new blog, in anonymity, somewhere else.
I had another sob to Beefcake.
I put it back up again.
I don’t know, maybe I will need to get myself a new space to write in but for now I’m just going to go with this:
People, if I know you in real life please go away. I can’t stop you, well actually I can but I don’t want to. I keep this blog private. I need it. Please fuck off. xx