What must you think of me?
I’ve been thinking a lot, since my fall from
grace mental stability, what you all must think of me. I actually first started pondering it during the confrontation with my friend, who felt that my posts here were expressing such a dark side of myself as to leave me completely unrecognizable. And this was to someone who was there, in person, to witness some of my most difficult years.
It’s true what I said to her, that this place is not an accurate representation of who I am. This is where I come to unload. And I’m not predisposed to unload unicorn farts and fairy queefs. I can share the happiness of my life with everyone I meet, with the people I see face to face. Here is where I go to exorcise my demons, to process the less savory things I think, to take shelter from the shit storms that swirl in my head. This is where I go to make sense of myself, and to come to terms with what I’m going through.
In real life I am a(n almost) completely different person than I am here. And I’m actually kind of cool.
A couple of times during my (continuing) mourning-period about not being a BlogHer, I’ve tried to convince myself that it was for the best that I couldn’t be there since I am such an emotional cluster fuck right now. But as the group assembled there and I thought more and more about what it would be like to be with them, I have been even more despondent that I couldn’t meet them face to face because honestly? They would probably like me in real life. I’m actually really fun to be around. I’m smart and funny and humble (might not seem that way in the middle of this sentence, but honestly, I am) and thoughtful and engaging and enthusiastic. A lot of people consider spending a couple hours with me is a decent way to kill time.
So all my blogging friends are together, having a grand old time, learning what each other is like in real life, and I’m stuck here all woe-is-me on ovulation watch (CD18 and still no sign of it, by the way), writing a series of increasingly down trodden posts, sinking into an ever deeper, and less and less manageable, quicksand pit of despair.
Mel recently wrote a post about a Friendnaissance she’s enjoyed of late, explaining that she’s made a lot of good friends in past years, despite a recent Cafemom post she read claiming it can’t be done. It got me thinking about how hard it’s been for me to make friends as an adult, and how sometimes I wonder (or actually, I downright believe) that my blogging has hindered my ability to make friends IRL because it has raised the bar so high that the people I meet face to face can’t possibly measure up. Actually, it’s not the people, but the interactions that I find lacking. Here, in URL (I think that is such a clever acronym for the blogosphere, or social media in general) I get to know people deeply, and intimately in just a few weeks. I immediately get to the meat of who they are and I feel, after following them for short time, that I truly know them. Meanwhile I can enjoy five coffee dates with a woman and barely remember her child’s name and if she has a partner and what she does. We never get to anything compelling and I get tired and frustrated waiting to break past the pleasantries inherent in budding, IRL relationships. And I want to reiterate, this lack of connection is not about the woman herself but buried in the fundamental impossibility of truly connecting with someone when you only have a short time to do so and you’re constricted by the social expectations implicit in fledgling friendships (basically, that you’ll only talk about happy things for the first however-many meetings).
That’s not to say that every URL friend I meet in real life becomes an insta-friend. I’ve met several that I liked just fine but that I had little or no inclination to pursue as a lasting IRL confidant. Sometimes, despite connecting very much via each other’s words, in real life we don’t have much to say to each other. There isn’t that spark.
But, when you connect online and then meet in person and find that connection grows even stronger, now those are incredible friendships. And like those little pill sponges that immediately spring into the animals they were always meant to be once they hit the warm water, when you click with a URL friend, an incredible friendship can be forged in just one day.
That’s why I’m so thankful for the two bloggy friends I’ve made. Without them my life would be infinitely lonelier and more difficult to manage. One of them is actually at BlogHer right now and I’m living vicarious through her (and iMessage), hearing all about the people she’s meeting and the stuff she’s learning.
So yeah, I wonder what you all think of me. I wonder if, were we to get coffees on day, you’d be pleasantly surprised (or downright incredulous) at how not-awful, and even enjoyable, I am to be around. Because truly, I’m a lot of fun. Despite what my posts here might lead you to believe.
Is your blog an accurate representation of who you are and what you’re like IRL? Why or why not?