The last post was a bit of an open wound for me, a pull-apart of the sides on a deep and usually private cut, to gawk and poke. Got me thinking of something a friend said to me yesterday about the bravery of laying it all out there in the public domain.
Blogs are funny things. Everyone’s got something to say, even if it’s just about potatoes, or loom weaving, or a 365 day journey through what they eat for dinner.
Technorati’s State of the Blogosphere has some awesome facts, citing around 133 million blogs in 2008 (to give you an idea in growth, in 2006 this was around 50 million). There are close to 1 million posts happening a day. The blogosphere’s a noisy little party.
So is it bravery, or is it just the act of hiding in public? Maybe I just don’t need to be brave yet because my list of readers is pretty poor (though it must be adamantly stated, of astoundingly high quality). Why did I start this?
As I’ve mentioned in a couple of posts, it’s my therapy session. I take myself off to this, my therapy room, and let fly (I’m thinking I need some pot plants in here to brighten the place up). The act of having to put my thoughts into some sort of coherency, selecting and placing words just so, seems to be having the effect of organising my brain into a semblance of peace and stillness. I’m definitely discovering a new quietness in there. I haven’t had a rara since I started. I find I go “hmm” now to things that usually push my buttons and start me off on a tirade of tourette-themed soliloquies.
There’s another reason: I need to know I’m normal. I believe, almost as a form of self-preservation, that I’d be guaranteed to find at least one other human being going through, or thinking, the exact same crazy stuff as I. Somewhere. Surely. Like the driving off the bridge thing. Scared me half to death. I mentioned it to a couple of people and got a response of “oh yeah, I’ve been there, I’ve thought that, and this, and even this”. Phew, crisis over, I’m not alone.
I don’t think I’m brave. Self-indulgently crazy perhaps, but neh, not brave. Not yet anyway.
5 comments:
No, you are brave.
Opening yourself up, whether to friends or strangers, involve emotional vulnerability, and it does take courage to do that.
One question I often ask myself about the bloggers I encounter whom don't post under their own name (myself included) is: Why do they hide their identity? Is it to put up a mask to hide who they are? Or, is it a way of dropping the mask we show to the world and exposing our true selves?
Suicidal thoughts are not abnormal, but a little frightening. I had the same experience once after a really bad day, where I contemplated a sidestep into a bus. What stopped my was my respect for the mantra, do no harm. My family, friends and that bus full of people I could have harmed stopped me.
I want to say as well that your thoughts have a beautiful natural flow to them that really commends them to a blog. I read your posts and think about them for a little bit.
Keep up the good work Meh!
@AL - hmm good point. First thing that comes to my mind is identity theft! Tho why anyone would want to steal my identity is beyond me. It's also why I'm not overly fussed with what total strangers think of me.
I do like the dichotomy of hiding behind the mask of a pseudonym, or the pseudonym being a mask that is the real us, so we can get rid of the fake mask we walk around with all day... ponderesting.
@Smoph - thanks! I tried to work out whether it was suicidal, and decided it definitely wasn't. I didn't want to die, I just wanted to shake the day up a bit - add some drama, something different, and perhaps take the decisions out of my hands for a while. Hard to explain..
> or the pseudonym being a mask that is the real us, so we can get rid of the fake mask we walk around with all day... ponderesting.
I like that concept too - I first pondered it reading some of the nasteir comments on Bossy actually.
Made me wonder if people were that sexist / rascist / "other"-ist in face to face conversations. Or maybe they hold their thoughts back in life, but drop their public act when the offer of anonymity is available.
Are our real lives the act, and our acting the truth, perhaps. It's like the abandonment felt with masquerade balls, or these days, fancy dress parties. You get to exercise that part of you that doesn't usually see the light of day, without consequence. Making me think, locust!
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