I know that there are a lot of blogs, and with that, obviously a lot of personal opinions, experiences, and everyday happenings that people want to share. People blog for many reasons; catharsis, the need to be heard; to develop a creative process- the reasons are endless. But one of the reasons why I have always loved blogging, and more importantly, writing, is the aspect of self discovery that takes place when people begin communicating with one another.
I am not talking about when some troll takes to the comments section of your blog to shit on everything you write and tell you how awful you are, but when there is truly a meaningful connection to the written/typed word. It becomes like a book, an article, a poem, or any other piece of literature that you admire or can relate to.
I have a lot of respect for the people who put their lives out on the interwebs for everyone to peck apart. As much as I fear being judged in person and online, I still feel like sharing some parts of me is important. It’s important for me to tell others how they have inspired me, to share stories of people who face great challenges, share wisdom, or make me feel like a million bucks with just their presence in my life. Writing has always been a way for me to stop being funny, bitchy, loud, and boisterous, and tell you what I am really feeling, to share what lies beneath all of that.
One thing that I have come to admire are the bloggers who write about their struggle with Depression. People judge depression, have strange notions of what it means, what people experience, and why we cannot snap out of it, while a few realize how truly stifling it is. For me, it hits home. This is such a personal topic for someone to write about, and it scares me to say, that I relate to many of their experiences I have struggled with it for many, many years.
:::::Phew. I said it.:::::
Sometimes when I am sitting on my couch, refusing to do anything but Netflix an entire series in one day while I eat my feelings, I remember that I am not the only person who is spending days, or even weeks, at a time like that. I get up, go to work, smile while I do my job and talk with friends, and push through what are terrible bouts of floating at the bottom. This, however routine it may be, is not easy for anyone- not for me, for my husband, or for those who I want to give my attention to, but simply cannot. And little by little, a few hours at a time, I start to pull myself out, and go on- after all, there are some things about life that are amazing, and they must not be ignored!
For food bloggers, like Andie Mitchell, of Can You Stay for Dinner
And for all of the people who try their best to communicate what that feels like to suffer some depression, with words or pictures, like Allie Brosh it takes some big balls. If it were not for people like them, I would not write. I would not blog. I’m happy that I do, in the hopes that someone who reads my blog will find a way to pull themselves up from that low, low, feeling, and find a way to release it.
I hate that anyone would ever have to know what it feels like to be in that place, but I hope that if they do, they find some way to express what is beneath the surface, as well.