I have an amazingly happy life. My husband is my best friend and he has been for 15 years. We have two ridiculous cute (or so I’ve been told!) daughters who are healthy and happy and even when they drive us crazy, we love them to bits. We are blessed.
My primary reason for keeping this blog going is to chronicle our lives and to connect with other people dealing with the same stuff. The good, the bad, the funny, the messy- stories of parenting and life. OUR stories of parenting and life.
That’s the key.
We have a large extended family. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, great grandparents, cousins (soooo many cousins!)- all of whom we love dearly and some of them even read this blog (HI, EVERYONE!) It took a while for me to be okay with the Family Blog Reading, because I’ve been blogging since before blogging was Cool. It used to be a secretive, almost dirty word: whoa. You write about your life on the Internet? Sometimes at 3am?? WHAT ABOUT THE CREEPY STALKERS? EEEEEWWW!
So we have these people we love. And even while our little household of four is having a good go at things, sometimes those people we love have horrible, awful things going on in their lives. They get sick. They make mistakes. They have unlucky, crappy things happen to them. They hurt. And that obviously makes US hurt for them. Nobody wants to see the people they care about in a hurty place.
When I hear of these things happening (thankfully, few and far between), my first instinct is to write. I don’t keep a private journal: mine is all on the internet for everyone to see. But not everyone is comfortable with the intimate details of their lives being public (only weirdos. LIKE MEEEE! And you, too, if you have a blog. We’re a strange bunch, aren’t we?) So I’ve made it a point to be sensitive to that and only share MY stories here, not the stories of the people I love. If I can’t share it here, I’ll write in my head. Then it’s gone. (Because my brain is CROWDED, yo.)
It’s hard, sometimes. We do not blog inside a bubble. I certainly don’t- the day I linked my blog feed with my personal Facebook account, I was instantly Public with my weird dorky hobby of oversharing on the Internet. POP! That protective Blogging Bubble was broken. Things we publish here in our little spaces are read by people we don’t even know, sure. But more importantly, these days, they are read by people we know very well- people we know IRL, if you will (“in real life” for you non-bloggy, non-Twittery folks.) So the words we write and the things we share have the potential to hurt or embarrass or shock those we care about. Being careless with a blog post is just not something I want to do. Not smart.
No matter how much I need to get things sorted out in my head and spill my brain and my heart and my feeeeelings.
(JUST TO EASE YOUR MINDS: WE ARE FINE. EVERYONE IS HEALTHY. AMEN.)
I guess my point is: we have a responsibility, as bloggers. A responsibility to protect the people we love by not sharing their stories as our own, even if their stories effect us.
If you’re a blogger yourself: do you sometimes struggle with remembering that you don’t blog inside a bubble anymore? Or have you taken steps to make sure that you’re in that bubble and you have the freedom to blog about the stories that aren’t necessarily yours to share? How do you cope with the need to share and write and process when Life Stuff happens? A private journal? Paper journal? Copious amounts of chocolate?
(SEND CHOCOLATE PLZ.)