On Blogging

When I started blogging, I started with no aim but finding a space to rant and a way to detoxify.

I was writing the things that bothered me, and when emailing friends failed to cure the wounds. Blogging seemed to help. Blogging became even handier when my first and last forum experience failed. Writing in a forum for the first time I was really amazed by discovering the advantage writing give me in a debate. When I write I have enough time to think and organize my thoughts. The thoughts that provoked a lot of people, and as a result I decided that it’s better to be the one and only who put the rules and the one and only to follow them. As one of the forum administrators, who is an old collage colleague, thought that only what he thinks is right is right. And that the rules are his to interpret.

I still used the blog mainly to vent that’s why most of the posts are too personal and too depressing. The blog became my new best friend. The safe place I think of whenever I face something that I can’t directly deal with.
But between complaining about my family and dreaming about Brad I blogged about other aspects of life. I found that blogging gives me a way to say what I think of things out loud not only to detoxify.

Then maybe when the thrill of novelty subsided Brad asked me why don’t I blog. And when I said I don’t really find something to blog about he kept talking about a book he read and inspired him a lot. I found his talk inspiring but it didn’t really make me want to write. And when I didn’t write he started saying things about how this blog has nothing to say and it is all about me. And that I should start writing something of value.

Actually what he said got to me, I won’t deny that. He made this comment short after he related my value in life with this blog, something a friend will also do later, so if this blog has no value that meant he was telling me in the face you are of no value.

I kept on, value or no value I still needed that place to vent. I still needed people to tell me I am not alone. I still wanted to share the things no one knows about me. And then came a point when I thought I have shared too much. I discovered that this blog is the living evidence of most of the events of my life. I felt naked on national TV.! The bad naked, not the good sexy naked. I felt that people are pointing at the ugliness I shared. I felt ashamed. I kept blogging to minimum but I have always came back when there was no place else to go.

The feeling of invaluableness and shame was the main reason I lost the ability to write. Every time I think something is interesting enough to be shared here, I get held back by the feeling that this isn’t good enough.
I just keep coming back. It feels good to scream and ask for help here. It just feels safe.

It feels safe to take off the guards and tell the whole world that I have dreams, I want to live, and I need to be granted new chances.
It feels safe to admit mistakes, and analyze them. It feels safe to come crying over the spilled milk and it feels safe to admit that I am genuinely thought-less. I am stupid and I do the same mistakes over and over.
It feels safe to say that I know that whatever I have gone through is little compared to what others are going through. It is safe to say that this little has taken most of me. It feels safe to admit that I have a dark secret life that this blog only reflects some of its incidents.

It just feels safe. Thanks to you.