Mickey Mouse drags on in the background. I can’t hear it, thank god for headphones. My kid is making a face that I can only assume is accompanied by a shit. His brother is lounging on the couch with a baby diaper on his head like a hat. Don’t worry, it isn’t a dirty diaper. Ezra is sitting in his little rocker chair, babbling on and looking into the distance. He does that a lot, I feel like he is talking to someone I just can’t see.
I feel as if each day I don’t write I lose my voice a little. In my writing I get to be me. I can adore my children, bemoan my children or make tongue-in-cheek remarks about breastfeeding. Here I can release whatever I want, usually with recklessly thoughtful abandon. I don’t aim to harm anyone in my little area of the interwebs, just to talk matters that are pressing to me.
I love writing, I love what it has given me. In addition to a sweet release I have met some amazing people. How do you meet people on the internet? Easy, we gather together and bleed for the world to see. We sit there on our blogs and pages, unfiltered and hoping only for acceptance. Some people don’t accept and others do. So is life.
In truth, most of us are missing something in our lives that drives us to see this fulfillment online. We all want acceptance, some of us in anonymity. We all are missing our voice to a degree in real life. If we weren’t, why would we spend our days online shouting from our platforms and hoping for like-minded people to come by.
My admission? In life I can’t thoughtfully discuss most things. My emotions rule me. My emotions are fierce. Fiery rage, immense sadness, boyish delight. They come and go, always with the intensity of a thousand suns. It is just who I am. At any moment I am liable to explode with bursts of whatever my emotions decide. So, when I take to the internet I finally have a place to measure my feelings and thoughtfully release. I leave a published post or status feeling calm, at peace.
I have always been an emotional person. The other night something reminded me of my mother and I had to be consoled as I forced myself to sit there listening to songs that I correlate with my mom. I have a playlist on Spotify with one song on it, The song that was my sister’s ringtone, I listen to it and cry over a shattered relationship that will never be fixed because in October she left this world.
When I take a thoughtful look at myself, sometimes I can’t stand it. Some days I can’t parent because my emotions rule me and I lay there in bed all day, just not wanting to move. I blame laziness, but I know the truth. I am graced by an understanding wife who knows that some days I just can’t. I don’t even have the energy to turn to my outlet, even though I should.
When laying it out, I sound crazy. Maybe I am? Who isn’t nowadays? The best people are crazy. I sit on the internet and talk and talk and talk until someone comes along and responds. The people that come by, I love wholeheartedly. Seriously- I have handed out a piece of my soul and heart in every conversation I have had. It’s one of the things that makes me even more emotional. When someone I have handed a piece of myself to does a 180 and walks straight out of my life or goes into full on attack mode on someone else I have given a piece of me to- it hurts. It keeps me up at night, wanting to tell them I love them and I respect their choices. Tell them that this internet is only an internet and they should focus on real life. While I am forever connected I tell others to disconnect. Ironic.
I fell in love with writing, and some days I feel like it was the worst decision of my life. I constantly have an electronic open, forever scrolling or writing. Forever handing pieces of my heart and soul out, forever connected to people who I probably will never meet and probably never know that I love them.
“Love with every stranger, the stranger the better”- Hozier