Last week it was the tenth anniversary of this blog. In ten years, I’ve written about stuff both silly and personal. I’ve documented love found, lost, found again. Jobs and travel. Pregnancy, childbirth, and kid-rearing. And considering this is a medium that did not really exist for the masses when I began writing online a decade ago, I have found the most amazing community of people and made so many real-life connections, my cup runneth over.
At Year 10, it’s harder and harder to write the big stuff. I can’t blog about work. I figured that one out a few years ago. I try to only blog my own story and not appropriate other people's experiences. I try to respect the privacy of my loved ones. I try to remember who is reading this now, and who could read this in the future. All these filters make for a less interesting and edgy online diary. 10 years ago, I had never heard the term ''overshare''.
Last week, at a wedding, I met a lovely woman named Andrea who had been reading Pony for a few years. A random connection – she lives in LA and happens to be old friends with a happyrobot member “Picture Monkey” while her boyfriend was a dear old friend of the groom. It is a small world, as they say in the magic kingdom.
My tenth anniversary post was almost about putting this blog on indefinite haiatus. Ten years later, and the real, personal stuff feels too invasive. Too risky. Too disrespectful of others. And right now, my life is only about real feelings. And other people.
In late February my mom got really sick. Completely out of the blue. It is the first thing I think about in the morning, the last thing I think about before I fall asleep. I am trying to make room for everything else, but it’s a new reality. For everyone, at least once in their life, they will have a day after which everything will be completely different. You won’t have anticipated it. It will knock the vision you had of your future on its head. And maybe for the first time in your life, you’ll be speechless.
For the past six weeks I have been adamant that I don’t want Pony to be the place for this next story. I’ve even started a separate blog without my name attached to record everything. And the absurd part is that no one reads it. And I guess I want people to read it and give me insight and comfort. And I am terrified of starting this. Because it’s not my story, alone. So there will be filters. I will try to protect privacy. And there will be real feelings.
It's heavy shit. And I hope it doesn't discourage other people from writing about ice cream and underpants and the new ZunePad. I feel like my friend who is working at the Holocaust Museum in Washington. It's a conversation stopper. Please don't stop your conversation.
