So, we made it past my last bout of ugliness and are back swimming along famously.
With that, I have felt an increase of adverse effects by the onslaught of negative and unhappy posts out there in the queerosphere. I can’t read anymore. I’m glad we all have a place to vent and share and attempt to understand ourselves, but the anonymous relationships we all have built are just too flimsy. Perhaps relying on them is the problem. (Those of you who are reading this aren’t the ones writing the blogs in question, fyi. There’s the real irony.)
I love the friends I’ve made through this. But I feel too much and take on too much. I feel your pain and have no power to help.
I have to focus on building strength where strength will hold. I need real voices, real faces, real bodies to interact with. There is a place for blogging, but my blog experience has lost its place. I just have to put it back where it belongs. Then I’ll be okay.
Writing- I don’t have many spare moments to focus and reflect without kids either reading over my shoulder, or sitting on my lap and driving cars on the keyboard. Little mutts- they need more of my face, less of the back of my head staring at a screen. Even this post- through editing has become too disjointed to follow, and the original intent has become muddled because I can’t shut out Star Wars playing on the computer next to mine.
Don’t worry, I give it a day or two before I get back in the swing of things. I’m addicted to the pain of reading other’s misfortune and bad choices.