When I ventured into the world of online blogging, I was seeking something. I wasn’t even sure what it was that I was seeking. Having begun a personal journey of accepting and acknowledging things about myself, becoming more open and vulnerable with M, as well as beginning to fully embrace my sexuality, I was bursting with enthusiasm and needed an outlet. Connection of some kind. Celebration, understanding, and further exploration.
When I was looking for pictures one day, I stumbled upon Tumblr. Thousands of pics and gifs scrolled by, some of which were very beautiful and intriguing, but I was most intrigued by the community of open people. People who also embraced sexuality, people who spoke openly and shared of themselves. The openness was inspiring. And scary. I’d never connected with anyone via the internet. Hell, Facebook was the only social media I’d ever even attempted, and I had no friends really. No close ones.
Stumbling upon the writings of several truly gifted and wise women, I was enthralled – oh, God, how I could relate! I found women who struck such a chord with me and it was such an amazing feeling. At a point in my marriage and with my own personal journey, when I felt so free, yet so unsure, even the connection of reading about other’s journeys made me feel not so alone, not so unsure. In fact, it felt wonderful to find a place where I felt I belonged, and it felt as if that connection to others was helping to light my/our way. Not that I wanted to follow in footsteps, just that reading the words of others made me think, long and hard, to look inward and to further encourage conversations with M. And that process was invaluable. So much so that I also opened a blog on WordPress, where I also fell in love with the community. I read every day and related and reflected, almost obsessively so.
I also wrote, a lot. Writing for me was a diary, a way to sort and express all the overwhelming feelings that jumbled around in my head and my heart as I put one foot in front of the other. The amount of sorting and understanding and evolving I needed to do left me feeling as if I was busting at the seams. The process of writing helped me to express myself with M, it sparked more and more writing, and the connections and comments and conversations with others about the topics helped that process to continue. I felt validated, even not so crazy amidst the rapid-feeling changes, and certainly less alone in my process. I began to feel understood in ways I never had, just as I began to better understand myself.
As I searched and read and commented, I met a handful of amazing women with whom I’ve become very goods friends. The best of friends, to me at least, virtual or not. Women with whom I can truly be myself, women I realize I’ve waited my whole life to find.
Somewhere along the way, as I began to know myself, writing for my blogs began to evolve, to change in purpose and feel. I began to question my motives, to feel as though I might be writing some things in order to seek approval, to fit in, or to feed my ego to an extent. I mean, don’t we all? Blogging is a form of emotional masturbation, no matter how you slice it. It then began to feel as if it was an obligation or responsibility, as if I’d lose my place in the community if I didn’t produce something frequently…..but also I began to miss the pats on the back or encouraging words when I went for too long without producing. I felt as if I was disappointing someone…..whether it be the followers or myself. I felt as if I was failing at meeting some set of expectations I’d set for myself, unrealistic and unhealthy ones. Maybe even that if I didn’t write, I wasn’t properly sorting and evolving. I knew, without a doubt, it was time to reevaluate why I was blogging. I knew it would evolve, and it had.
For some time, I’ve felt a discontent, trying to figure out if I should stay, and if so, why? For what purpose?
As I’ve sought the answers to those questions, I’ve realized that my sorting and sharing in the blog world isn’t important to me for the same reasons as it was at the start. I’m not so unsure anymore. I have a confidence and security in my relationship that keeps me grounded and I’m finding that I really prefer to share my thoughts with M (a process which only brings us closer and deeper as one) and I don’t always feel the the need to stop and write it down, to miss out on opportunities to enjoy the now with my family. I enjoy speaking to my friends, too.
At this point, I just don’t need to write so often in order to sort – I think and talk and sort that way, and if I feel like writing and have the time, I do. I trust myself more now. I trust M. I don’t need the blog to feel validated any longer. While I still have moments and times when I feel like a basket case, I’m confident I’ll get through it, every time. That we will. I trust. And while I do sometimes feel lonely in the absence of my friends whom I love so much, I no longer feel alone.
What began a couple years ago as a virtual diary in which to utilize to know more about myself, has taken many twists and turns, but it’s come full circle. At this point in my life, in this virtual world, I seek to to continually grow and further understand myself, and to celebrate this life, my sexuality, and this amazing relationship I have with M. I enjoy sharing that with others and reading about others who seek similar things. I still very much enjoy reading the words of others – I read to feel a kindred spirit, to admire another’s way of thinking, to challenge my capacity to be human and to learn, or to feel awe in another’s capacity to love and to live. But I don’t write to seek approval or to fulfill any sense of obligation or responsibility. I don’t read to fit in or to feel as if my path or my choices in this life are the right ones. I do it because it feels good and that’s a good enough reason for me.
Writing for this blog has become a lovely, welcome addition in my life. A healthy one. Reading has become something that touches my heart and warms my soul. And for these things I’m very grateful.
So, I’ll be around. It will likely continue to be less frequent and more sporadic, but I’m here.