I’m a writer. I have written—journals, poems, letters, extra
credit assignments, and now blogs—as long as I can remember. Clearly, I didn’t
intend most of that writing for publication. I would love to publish my poetry,
which I’ve entered in contests. Alas, no luck there. The gatekeepers didn’t let
my work through. Well, okay. I’m not
trendy and I can live with that.
The joy of blogging, of course, comes from the lack of
gatekeepers. No one gets to say if I publish a blog post or not. Simply sign up
for a site, type away, click on Publish! It’s like magic.
Without someone else to say whether or not I publish
something, though…without the gatekeepers, the responsibility for what I
publish rests solely on me. Well, okay.
I’m good with responsibility. Ah, but then we get into the questions of Why.
Why do I want to put my words on the internet? Two bright
shiny reasons hover over my head: to entertain and to help others. Those are good,
wholesome, kid-tested and mother-approved reasons for doing anything. We all
need a laugh—especially parents. And helping others? Please! That’s the best reason ever. (There may be other reasons, too, but not for the purposes of this post.)
So I (try to) entertain you all by shamelessly plagiarizing
my children’s wit and ruthlessly describing our mishaps as a family. But how do
I go about “helping people”?
I can only offer what I have. I have this life of mine, the
things I’ve observed, and the thoughts and feelings I’ve based on those. I
write about my life, observations, thoughts, and feelings constantly—but what
of that is worth sharing? What has value for others? Without those gatekeepers,
without the agents, acquisitions editors, and publishers, how do I know what
will mean something to others?
Figuring that out requires some confident self-assessment.
What if the main thing I have to offer has nothing to do
with confidence? I don’t even know how to describe it. Everything I’ve learned
comes from the opposite of confidence, from being ground down and worn out
and—yes—humiliated by the inexorable forces that move life and what they’ve
done to me.
That’s okay in the privacy of my own mind because I value
what I’ve learned. The question remains: Does it have any value to anyone else?
Right now, I can’t answer that. I’m writing about depression
and what it feels like because that’s what life is teaching me right now. I’m
not publishing it because there’s no gatekeeper to tell me it has value to
others.
But if life is my gatekeeper…
I keep thinking about the bloggers at Honest Mom and Renegade Mothering and The Feminist Breeder
and Hyperbole and a Half. These women
give me such a sense of release by
being honest about their mental health struggles. They gave me the comfort of not being alone and reassurance that this, too, will pass. And that feeling of
recognition and being recognized that we all love—that awesome high of a new book or a new
friend. I found all that in their stories.
Maybe someone would find it in mine?
And I honestly do believe that we can only reach for mental
health—or health, since a chemically imbalanced brain is a diseased organ—when
mental illness (illness) loses its stigma. I believe that will happen when we
can all speak freely about it.
So is this the point where I need to
A.
Put my money where my mouth is?
B.
Not jump on the trendy bandwagon?
C.
Forget those other-based lines of thought and do
what is in my heart?
Well, if I put it that way…
Plus, I keep running across these amazing articles and
TedTalks that blow my mind. Smart, brave people standing up and sharing their
observations of life. Today it was this very early TedTalk on severe depression
and ECT: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oEZrAGdZ1i8
Wow.
Back to the original question: I have decided. I will try to give to the internet—to you—what I have.
Please feel welcome take whatever
will help you.
Just remember to
always use internet content responsibly.
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