Yep! Me and ‘ol Mark…
We are both celebrating today.
As Facebook marks its 10th anniversary,
I fist pump over my 100th post.
One hundred posts,
Thirty-five thousand plus words.
Four months of writing.
1.2 billion Facebook users.
Slightly less followers on my blog…
Woot! Woot! To me!
All those words inside my head,
All this time.
Floating and bumping and piling up.
Each one lost and unconnected to meaning.
The day I initially barfed up some of those words,
(Some three years ago now),
Was a ‘moment’,
Even though I didn’t know it at the time.
It turns out I needed to purge.
As another life crisis was occurring,
I needed to make room I guess.
If I dig deeper,
I can analyze even more.
She had just broken both her legs.
Just three years after losing her daughter.
And nearly dying herself.
I was terrified.
My fear was this would be it.
‘This’ being; broken, unable to walk or go home, another surgery, in hospital for an entire summer.
‘It’ being; mentally snap, lose herself, dive deep into a depression where I could not reach her.
I just didn’t see how she was going to be able to sustain sanity.
On top of all ‘that’…A.K.A. Her heartbreak to date.
Back to my further analyzes…
My purging and making room mentally,
Was a subconscious act,
To not only give myself room to support her,
But, to give her the mental capacity to cope.
whatever the reason,
Those very same words,
When I returned to them two years later,
Became a story I thought I could share.
With a good friend’s encouragement,
I started a blog.
A few posts in,
I shared my writing with my sister for the first time.
She was surprised.
And deeply touched,
As she read the words,
That told her life story.
Her surprise was about my insight.
Her emotion was about my perspective.
Her tears were about the honesty in the words.
She loved it.
She wanted me to write more.
She granted me permission,
To go on with ‘our story’.
And I did.
One hundred posts later…
I am in a good place.
So is she.
She is proud of my work.
We joke about my ‘penname’,
And my use of pronouns versus proper names.
The initial purging notes were nameless
I am her protector,
Even in a private journal, I wished to protect her.
Now, in my blog
I cannot reveal myself without revealing her.
Perhaps one day,
I will be able to
Feel less protective
Or feel less need to be protective.
Just know a real person,
Is writing these real words,
About real people.
For a real reason.