When I started this blog, I told myself I was doing something better than blogging: “blogging,” in my life thus far, had been me filling out memes and surveys, dropping cryptic hints to friends who I hoped would see them and get the intended messages, or whining about my ex (while we were together) because he wasn’t allowed access to my blog and so I felt safe there. This time, I told myself, I would be doing something much more important, embarking on a real project, churning out quality writing that I could later make over into a book – no doubt a bestseller that would become a movie.
I publicized myself on facebook, so that everyone I’d ever gone to school with was being bombarded with my posts every day, and I printed up little cards that I intended to hand to potential readers as a form of networking. I didn’t really know what tags or categories were for (still don’t), but that was okay, because I was so certain that people would just stumble across my blog randomly, read it, love it, and therefore do my very-grown-up-and-not-at-all-like-my-earlier-blogs project justice.
Well, people did stumble across my blog, but not entirely randomly. Because of my subject matter, I soon found myself with a handful of readers – strangers – who had also suffered miscarriages, and/or were struggling with infertility. One “hey, you’re not alone” comment turned into many comments; I subscribed to the blogs of some of my most dedicated commenters, and eventually I found myself really getting to know these women I had never met – most of us are now facebook friends, which, in this day and age, means our relationships are official.
Sometimes, I feel like the younger sister of this group, a kind of tag-along, because I’m the only one not trying to have a baby right now. But then, I’m also the one who’s the furthest past her miscarriage – most of my friends have just passed, or are gearing up for, the would-be due dates of the babies they lost. So in that respect, I’m like the older, wiser, been-there-and-survived sister.
When I started this project, I told myself that I wouldn’t become part of the blogging community, because what I was doing was better than blogging – and I remember turning down an award, offered to me by a blogger I’d known for only a few weeks, because I “wasn’t ready” to be part of the community yet. But, like all best-laid plans (my life, for example), this project has shaped itself a little differently than I expected. No one is banging down my door trying to get the publishing rights, for one.
It might be a coincidence, but it’s only since I opened myself up to “the community” that I’ve started to see real progress in myself. Sure, writing itself is therapeutic, but being read and understood adds so much more value to the act. And my “blog friends,” because they’ve had similar experiences to mine, are able to understand me in a way that even my closest real-life friends can’t.
But lately, in our little corner of the blogosphere, it seems like there’s something in the virtual water. Suddenly, everyone’s unhappy, apathetic, overwhelmed, or in my case, experiencing classic anxiety/depression symptoms without actually feeling anxious/depressed. One friend just found out her younger brother is going to be the one to make her parents into grandparents. Another is starting to worry that her baby-crazy goals are affecting her marriage. A third is thinking that running away to Seattle sounds like a pretty good idea. (Which, for the record, it always does to me.)
I feel like we, collectively, need to be snapped out of this funk we’re all in, but I also feel like we, collectively, are out of ideas. So now I’m turning to my real-life friends, who are (at least currently) emotionally sound, for help:
Without giving advice, per se, can you suggest things that might make us feel better? Good examples would be chocolate milkshakes, fresh air and exercise, scheduled date nights, etc. Bad examples would be running away to Seattle (we need no encouragement) or “having a healthy pregnancy already.” Basically, what do you do on your blah days, to break up the storm clouds and cheer yourself up?