When I first started this blog, way back last month, I didn’t know what it would be. I started a blog because my friend Carolyn insisted that I do it. She thinks I’m funny on Facebook, and that I need to blog. So I guess my idea was to be funny… to share my real life experiences with a dose of humor… like I do on Facebook, but more.
I certainly didn’t imagine that I’d be sharing any traumatic childhood experiences with the world. I did that already, in a way. I had my therapeutic, cathartic outbursts, and it was helpful. I don’t think I need to do that anymore. I just want to tell funny stories. And I tried. But, like it or not, the traumatic childhood stuff worked itself right in there. I stumbled onto this truth: some people have stories that begin with, “this one time, in band camp…” and other people have stories that begin with, “my dad is a real dick…”.
And then there are the other times… when I read someone else’s story, and I feel the need, or the desire, or the obligation to share a comment or two. And I’m finding that there is a very supportive group of people here for that, and I want to be part of that support. I’m old now (do NOT try to tell me I’m not old… you will rob me of my greatest accomplishment if you do!) and I’ve lived through more stages of this thing than a lot of people have, so maybe it’s my job now to be on the support team. Or maybe I just hope that’s true, because then there would be a use for all of this experience I have.
In any case, I hope my blog isn’t just a total bummer.