Disappearing Act
Months ago the few loyal readers I managed to earn through no great effort of my own (thanks again to Real Live Preacher for linking to me) may have been surprised to find that my blog suddenly required a username and password for entry. Chick Truths was abruptly inaccessible via the blogosphere sans a few quotes scattered around on other folk’s pages.
How rude of me.
Please consider this a long overdue apology and explanation. It’s simple really:
I was outted.
I got an email from my sister that contained among other words, these statements:
"It is disappointing to learn that you have chosen to use words in a hateful, destructive manner."
"You have no right to malign or put private matters into a public forum without permission from those involved."
"It’s one thing to think this shit, but to put it out on the web is a whole different issue."
"It’s simple: Me or your blogs."
Despite reasonable attempts to remain mostly anonymous, purposefully not using names that could be searched (except my own last name for copyright purposes) and continuously checking my site traffic and running test searches on said last name a family member somehow uncovered my blog and told the sister I mentioned above. Suddenly my somewhat-anonymous blog was fair game to the very list of people I absolutely never wanted to know it even existed. (Was it the hapless comment by a reader that inquired about my brother by name that gave me away?)
I've hurt my sister deeply and for that I am sorry, remorseful, and it will likely be something I regret more than the many other harmful things I have done to my relationship to her. Like reading her personal journal when I was a teenager and by doing so driving her to never keep a journal again. Like not having the personal integrity the check my harsh words when she's needed support instead of judgement.
So, perhaps she was justified to insist I cease and desist and sling a few insults and assumptions of her own. I took about a day to think about it then promptly ceased and desisted. I guess in the end I cared more about my sister’s feelings than the various rewards I was getting from an infrequently updated and often (admittedly) self-indulgent, ranty, online journal.
Motherhood took over after that. Who has time to carefully pull down all their blog content before forever erasing a few years of writing greatness (insert tongue in cheek here)? And I certainly didn’t have time to read my entire blog to separate (and then remove) the posts about my family from the chaff because, let’s face it people, my family is my goldmine. Throughout my writing life they have provided the best content. They got me an A in several college fiction courses and make for very entertaining dinner conversation. We are so flawed we are beautiful and people in my life have always loved to hear about them/read about them. The story isn’t pretty and I am unabashedly honest about it. It’s the electric light anyone who takes interest in me is drawn to.
My main point is this: The site had to come down quickly. Being known to two family members I had to pull it before the virus spread and the other living 7 were alerted to it. Whatever relationship I had left with any other members of my family was at risk. I’m not going to lie – I pretty much exist on a thin ice with most of them. They are either apathetic about me or they have been trying to vote me off the island for years now and only Catholic guilt and obligation maintains my membership. Knowledge of the blog would be the free pass some folks are looking for and I only want to refuse it to them because being cut off from one or two would affect my relationship with the ones I like to spend time with.
The fact is, though, that the blog is out there. It is a memory for at least two and there could be and probably are printed copies. Sharing may have occurred before I even knew they knew. I’ve been told the buck stopped as soon as I took the site down but do I really know that? Do I trust it?
Hell no. Secrets are emotional collateral in my family, cards to be played at a later date. This is precisely why I was/am in so much trouble for putting all of the stories out there. Between the two who know, one told the other simply to get her to deal with the “problem” for him. He put the demise of chick truths in motion, the big coward. Or political genius. You pick.
So now, months later, I have finally taken the time to pull down my content, tuck it away for personal reflection at a later date, and formally close the “chick truths” chapter of my life. If I am honest with myself, which is hard to do, much of what I penned here was not beautiful or even nice. I tried really hard to reflect that the real issue was my own personal limitations but some of it truly smacks of personal journal. I should have committed it to paper for discovery after my death versus data bytes found via search engine. By then people wouldn’t be old enough to understand that if I’m negative about anything it’s mostly my inability to be a forgiving and productive member of my own family. Or, they would already be dead and physically unable to get angry. (I am the second-to-youngest after all, the odds were good.)
I miss chick truths, I do. I did a search the other night to reassure myself that there remained no back-door to the content and found that more than three people commented about my site on their own. Unexpected people: A man who lists baseball as one of his primary reasons for existence and another who has a picture of the Vendetta dude as an icon on his site. I never talked to these folks but I definitely got something out of knowing I said something that meant something to them.
I guess, in the end I do have something to say and I want people to read it. The trick is to be a good enough writer to put it down without inflicting pain. Can I do that?
Will I do that? Well I’ve promised myself I will only if and when I can devote at least one reserved length of time a week to it. The main complaint of my viewing audience is that my posts appear unpredictably and without regularity. To be successful, I need to be more prolific.
That’s the next question. Can a new mother make that happen? I just spent 48 hours on puke watch (my son has a stomach virus). I found time to download the Christmas pictures and write thank you notes. I did the laundry several times (part of the watch) and tried to force feed my son Pedialyte via a drinking straw. I even cooked a savory Crock-Pot meal and made some boxed muffins. I see a theme forming here…
And then the most vexing questions of all: Can I write fearlessly and still manage to sustain relationships with the people who inspire what I write? If I can’t, is it worth the loss? Will I be a writer or just a blogger playing at it? Do I really have something to say that is worth the time (yours, mine and ours)?
I wish I could send 12 people with nothing better to do off to decide for me. Instead I know I need to keep turning the questions around in my head and then commit either way. It’s been so long since I’ve seriously considered the dream of being a writer and now I’m dreaming for three (me, my husband, and my son). I'd love for my son to be the child of a wacky writer type. In the end he may have to settle for Suzie Homemaker/Working Mother.
So, spoken like the uber-Mom I so now am, “We’ll see.” If the World Wide Web calls again I hope you will find me, recognize me, and forgive me enough to start reading again. I’ll try to be at least somewhat transparent so you can discover the "chick truths" within my new persona.
By the way, my name is Jennifer. Nice to meet you. Thanks for reading and supporting. I hope our paths cross again sometime.
How rude of me.
Please consider this a long overdue apology and explanation. It’s simple really:
I was outted.
I got an email from my sister that contained among other words, these statements:
"It is disappointing to learn that you have chosen to use words in a hateful, destructive manner."
"You have no right to malign or put private matters into a public forum without permission from those involved."
"It’s one thing to think this shit, but to put it out on the web is a whole different issue."
"It’s simple: Me or your blogs."
Despite reasonable attempts to remain mostly anonymous, purposefully not using names that could be searched (except my own last name for copyright purposes) and continuously checking my site traffic and running test searches on said last name a family member somehow uncovered my blog and told the sister I mentioned above. Suddenly my somewhat-anonymous blog was fair game to the very list of people I absolutely never wanted to know it even existed. (Was it the hapless comment by a reader that inquired about my brother by name that gave me away?)
I've hurt my sister deeply and for that I am sorry, remorseful, and it will likely be something I regret more than the many other harmful things I have done to my relationship to her. Like reading her personal journal when I was a teenager and by doing so driving her to never keep a journal again. Like not having the personal integrity the check my harsh words when she's needed support instead of judgement.
So, perhaps she was justified to insist I cease and desist and sling a few insults and assumptions of her own. I took about a day to think about it then promptly ceased and desisted. I guess in the end I cared more about my sister’s feelings than the various rewards I was getting from an infrequently updated and often (admittedly) self-indulgent, ranty, online journal.
Motherhood took over after that. Who has time to carefully pull down all their blog content before forever erasing a few years of writing greatness (insert tongue in cheek here)? And I certainly didn’t have time to read my entire blog to separate (and then remove) the posts about my family from the chaff because, let’s face it people, my family is my goldmine. Throughout my writing life they have provided the best content. They got me an A in several college fiction courses and make for very entertaining dinner conversation. We are so flawed we are beautiful and people in my life have always loved to hear about them/read about them. The story isn’t pretty and I am unabashedly honest about it. It’s the electric light anyone who takes interest in me is drawn to.
My main point is this: The site had to come down quickly. Being known to two family members I had to pull it before the virus spread and the other living 7 were alerted to it. Whatever relationship I had left with any other members of my family was at risk. I’m not going to lie – I pretty much exist on a thin ice with most of them. They are either apathetic about me or they have been trying to vote me off the island for years now and only Catholic guilt and obligation maintains my membership. Knowledge of the blog would be the free pass some folks are looking for and I only want to refuse it to them because being cut off from one or two would affect my relationship with the ones I like to spend time with.
The fact is, though, that the blog is out there. It is a memory for at least two and there could be and probably are printed copies. Sharing may have occurred before I even knew they knew. I’ve been told the buck stopped as soon as I took the site down but do I really know that? Do I trust it?
Hell no. Secrets are emotional collateral in my family, cards to be played at a later date. This is precisely why I was/am in so much trouble for putting all of the stories out there. Between the two who know, one told the other simply to get her to deal with the “problem” for him. He put the demise of chick truths in motion, the big coward. Or political genius. You pick.
So now, months later, I have finally taken the time to pull down my content, tuck it away for personal reflection at a later date, and formally close the “chick truths” chapter of my life. If I am honest with myself, which is hard to do, much of what I penned here was not beautiful or even nice. I tried really hard to reflect that the real issue was my own personal limitations but some of it truly smacks of personal journal. I should have committed it to paper for discovery after my death versus data bytes found via search engine. By then people wouldn’t be old enough to understand that if I’m negative about anything it’s mostly my inability to be a forgiving and productive member of my own family. Or, they would already be dead and physically unable to get angry. (I am the second-to-youngest after all, the odds were good.)
I miss chick truths, I do. I did a search the other night to reassure myself that there remained no back-door to the content and found that more than three people commented about my site on their own. Unexpected people: A man who lists baseball as one of his primary reasons for existence and another who has a picture of the Vendetta dude as an icon on his site. I never talked to these folks but I definitely got something out of knowing I said something that meant something to them.
I guess, in the end I do have something to say and I want people to read it. The trick is to be a good enough writer to put it down without inflicting pain. Can I do that?
Will I do that? Well I’ve promised myself I will only if and when I can devote at least one reserved length of time a week to it. The main complaint of my viewing audience is that my posts appear unpredictably and without regularity. To be successful, I need to be more prolific.
That’s the next question. Can a new mother make that happen? I just spent 48 hours on puke watch (my son has a stomach virus). I found time to download the Christmas pictures and write thank you notes. I did the laundry several times (part of the watch) and tried to force feed my son Pedialyte via a drinking straw. I even cooked a savory Crock-Pot meal and made some boxed muffins. I see a theme forming here…
And then the most vexing questions of all: Can I write fearlessly and still manage to sustain relationships with the people who inspire what I write? If I can’t, is it worth the loss? Will I be a writer or just a blogger playing at it? Do I really have something to say that is worth the time (yours, mine and ours)?
I wish I could send 12 people with nothing better to do off to decide for me. Instead I know I need to keep turning the questions around in my head and then commit either way. It’s been so long since I’ve seriously considered the dream of being a writer and now I’m dreaming for three (me, my husband, and my son). I'd love for my son to be the child of a wacky writer type. In the end he may have to settle for Suzie Homemaker/Working Mother.
So, spoken like the uber-Mom I so now am, “We’ll see.” If the World Wide Web calls again I hope you will find me, recognize me, and forgive me enough to start reading again. I’ll try to be at least somewhat transparent so you can discover the "chick truths" within my new persona.
By the way, my name is Jennifer. Nice to meet you. Thanks for reading and supporting. I hope our paths cross again sometime.
posted by gease at 5:00 PM
4 comments
