Why a Blog, not a Journal?
This blog is a bit of a secret.
I've mentioned before that I often have a strong urge to write, that becomes more, well...urgent...when I'm trying to sort something out and my thoughts have become kind of jumbled.
So a blog like this exists for me to fulfil that need.
But, if it's not shared with others, then why not just write in a journal? Why bother with a blog?
There are few reasons.
The first is kind of a practical one: typing is quicker than hand-writing, and vastly easier to edit. Plus I can add fun things like pictures and links and videos, to liven it up and add more depth of meaning. I do have notebooks that I'll write in sometimes too, and there's a lot to be said for writing physical words on a physical page with a physical pen...but I enjoy this medium and its flexibility.
But I think the main reason goes deeper.
I crave vulnerability. Writing, for me, is vulnerable. I've mentioned before that it's easier for me to be open and honest via the written word than in regular face-to-face conversation, because of my various social difficulties and fears; writing bypasses all of those. Writing about my deep inner struggles and posting it in a public blog (even if secret) is an outlet for that need for vulnerability.
But is it really vulnerability if no one can read it? Ah, that's where the real difference between a blog and a journal comes in. Even if no one knows about it, being public, it's possible for some random person to someday stumble upon it. So in that way it offers the feel of vulnerability to me, with a little bit of thrill that comes with that, with much less risk. Not just risk as in, oh no what if one of my friends sees it and learns more about my deep inner thoughts and struggles, but risk as in, what if I put myself out there and get no response?
I've written emails at times, laying things out that felt very vulnerable, and gotten radio silence...and that is a particularly sharp kind of painful experience. Here, though, there's no expectation of a response. I'm sending it out into the void, knowing it's like beaming messages into outer space, and 99.99999% of the time it won't reach anyone. But maybe someday...
Intentionally sharing it with others...it changes things. I have to think about/worry about what they'll think. It becomes more like writing to them, instead of just writing, and the response-expectation becomes a part of the mix.
So, it's a strange thing, I know. And there's something a little painful about keeping it to myself. But at the same time, it's freeing, and it seems to strike the right balance, and be what I need at the moment, to satisfy my need for vulnerability while still remaining rather isolated. I'm not trying to be secretive, but I AM trying to be private...while still kind of hoping the paper I stuck in a bottle and chucked out to sea will someday wash up on shore.
-M
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