The Future of My Blog

For the past several days, I have been thinking a lot about the life of this blog. It was born a little over three years ago, March 2015, in a seemingly random way. I was very depressed and alone. Without giving much thought to the matter, I just typed various phrases into Google, things like “I am so depressed and can’t go on like this” or “I am a disgusting and horrible person.” Then I would just read whatever came up. I supposed I was looking at some level to find I’m not alone, or to find some kind of help. What I ended up discovering was the world of mental health blogging. I didn’t even know it existed, much less that it would become such a lifeline for me through the difficult months ahead.

Now it seems that my blog has been killed, in an equally random way.

My son decides to take a Facebook quiz, and thanks to the world of big data, kaboom! my cover is blown. And no matter how many times I think it through, I always come to the same conclusion: this means the end of la quemada. 

Why?

It can no longer be a public blog, because my son knows about it. He told me he bookmarked it, and he’s been asking me if I’ll make it public again because he wants to keep reading. I can’t live with that. Even though in some ways it shouldn’t matter, since now he pretty much knows everything, it does matter. Knowing that he will be reading it if it’s public, I will no longer write freely and honestly. I will always self-edit, knowing he’s peering over my shoulder. And if I don’t write the painful truth, what’s the point?

The other option is to keep it up as a private blog. I considered that. After all, some of the utility of the blog comes from having the opportunity to sit down and articulate what’s going on for me: an electronic journal, in essence. But what is really meaningful for me has been the support and validation and caring from readers. What an incredible community! I have gained so much from that support and from the opportunity to support others as well.

And the truth is, my access to that amazing community is greatly restricted with a private blog. I now have 12 people who have requested and received access to the private version of this blog. Knowing how bloggers come and go, or get busy, or get interested in other issues or other blogs, I know it won’t be possible to keep up a community or reach new people this way.

So the future of my blog is this… there is no real future. It’s a terminal diagnosis.

Sometime in the near future, I’ll let it go dormant. Since I just paid for my fourth year (I pay to get rid of the ads), I’ll let it sit here as a private blog for a few months, which will give me time to save material off of it that I want to keep. Sometime before next March, I’ll delete the whole thing.

I feel a bit sad to write those words. More than a bit, to be honest.

But before I let it go, I’m going to do something to celebrate it and all the good it’s brought me. I haven’t figured out yet what that will be (let me know if you have suggestions?). Some kind of blog farewell party, part graduation, part wake.

And here’s the part that gives me some comfort and hope: I’m going to start over with a new blog. Maybe it’s time. I’m at a different place. I no longer need to “believe the girl”–I believe her now, most of the time at least, and I try to take care of her and myself when Doubt creeps in. I’m at a different stage. Now my task is to use the skills I’ve been developing to continually tend to the deep wounds that will always be there, but that no longer need to run my life. Now my challenge is to build the life I want to live. I’m sure depression and anxiety and health problems and triggers and Effexor withdrawal and boundary issues will still be there, but I think they’ll look different.

Besides, la quemada means “the burnt one,” and I haven’t burned myself in over a year. I get the impulse sometimes, but I feel I have a lot of other options I can choose instead.

That’s all I know about it tonight. But knowing there will be something new following the end of this blog makes it easier to imagine letting it go.

 

CREDIT:  Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash 

22 comments

    • Your comment warms my heart, truly. Thank you for the kind words. When I figure out what / where is next, I will share that, and I would be honored to have you keep reading.

      Like

  1. I too will follow you to your new blog (if allowed!) I am sorry this one has come to an end, however like you said at the end.. a lot has changed for you, positively, since starting! Perhaps a new beginning will be cathartic. I was so pleased to hear you now believe your little girl most of the time. The main reason I followed you (well, there were two, one was your openness about body memories and speaking to your therapist about them which allowed me to do the same) was your open struggle with denial. I struggle awfully with my denial of DID and the abuse itself and it has helped me so much to read about your similar struggles. It was lovely to hear you have mostly overcome that particular one! It gives me hope. 😊

    Liked by 1 person

    • Now I, too, have come to think a transition to a new blog will be a good thing. I just have been so busy with some extra freelance work that I haven’t had time to think about what the new one will be. I’m imagining I’ll be able to spend some time on it in the summer.

      It means so much to me, more than you can imagine, to hear that my descriptions of my experience and especially of the hell of doubting myself, has resonated for you and even helped you. It’s as though it gives some meaning to all that suffering, just to know it might help someone else move toward their own healing; it’s kind of redemptive, if that makes sense. It’s so moving to me. I shared your comment with E, who was also very touched.

      I would just like to suggest to you that when you are struggling with doubt, consider asking doubt to leave you alone just for a little while, a few weeks or so. In that time, treat yourself as if you did believe yourself, and offer yourself the kindness of healing and care without questioning whether or not you deserve it. You might find that that the gentle self-love is so good for you that want to continue it, regardless of what doubt says. For me, doubt still creeps up and pinches me occasionally, but I usually say, “okay, regardless of what I do and do not remember, I have learned that I feel healthier when I behave as if I believed myself. And obviously SOMETHING was wrong or I wouldn’t be so depressed and spending all this time in therapy. So I might as well heal that SOMETHING, even if it’s kind of foggy.”

      I hope you can allow yourself something like that, Em. It’s not cheating to believe yourself in spite of doubt. It’s self-care, which is a gift to both yourself and the world, which benefits from the healthy, creative, happier version of you.

      Like

  2. Aww, I feel a bit sad… but then again, sometimes the path ahead feels uncomfortable, but we know we have to take it anyway yes? I think it’s a very healthy sign that you feel you’ve outgrown some of the desperation that formed this blog… I let go of an old blog about losing my Dad… Best wishes with whatever you decide to do, G in Australia xO

    Liked by 1 person

  3. aaaargh! WP ate my comment. Here is a new one.

    My heart sank when I read the first bit and I’m so happy that you will be making a whole new beginning. Sort of a “my past will always be with me, but I am not my past” kind of thing.

    I think the idea of having some sort of farewell is fantastic. It’s hard when people you follow stop blogging. Lots of feelings – happiness for their being able to move on, but mixed with envy, sadness, anger, and of course that biggie: abandonment. I will think some more on ideas.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I really want to do some kind of farewell but have yet to come up with an idea that feels meaningful. I think it’s because I’ve had so much work these past few weeks, and then of course I got triggered and geez, is that ever a time suck!

      I may just limp along with this blog for a few more weeks while I get through a crunch at work, and then I can think about properly wishing La Quemada farewell and launching whatever comes next. If you come up with any ideas, I’d love to hear them. You are a very creative person so I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you had a brilliant idea! (not meant as pressure however!)

      Like

  4. I very much echo everything said by everyone before me. I found your blog a few months ago and spent hours reading many of your posts. Then I felt lucky to be able to converse with you and have our journeys intertwine through WP. I’m so sorry that la quemada has to end this way, but I look forward to seeing what the future holds for you. I think it’s wonderful that you are channeling an awful situation into a new idea and path. As Em said, if given the opportunity I will definitely continue following on the new blog. Xx

    Liked by 1 person

    • I would be honored and thrilled to have you keep on reading! I truly appreciate your support. Journaling is very useful, but the back-and-forth, the rich support and learning that happens via a personal blog, that lifts the writing experience to something more than an opportunity for internal reflection. It becomes something like group therapy. The shared vulnerability helps reduce shame and strengthen our kind voices. First we apply them to one another’s stories, and then eventually to our own. What a gift!

      Like

    • I am also glad that YOU have been a part of my journey. It’s the warmth and graciousness of readers / commenters that has been so healing for me. I’m grateful people take the risk to actually make comments. Those comments comfort me in hard times, plus they are a chance for even more people to see they are not alone. So thank you, Cherished, thank you for every single comment. I hope you will accompany me on my next stage, once I figure out what that will be.

      Like

  5. Your blog was the first I came across when doing the random googling for answers you describe above, probably about therapist texting! So many of your posts have helped me understand things about my journey. I’m glad to know what la quemeda means too, and that it no longer describes you 💕

    Liked by 1 person

    • It was kind of a bummer that right after I wrote that “la quemada” no longer really described me, I got triggered and so longed to burn myself. I think the fact I had just written on my blog that I was done with that helped restrain me from actually doing it. I guess the impulse to turn in that direction under duress may always remain, but it’s true what E says, that I have moany more resources than I used to.

      It’s funny that you found me in the same random googling way that I first started blogging about my mental health (and lack of it). I wonder how many people discover this WP community that way?

      Thank you for being so supportive!

      Like

    • Thanks for the kind words, little fairy. You always say very sweet things I will carry on with a new blog, for sure (it means too much to me to let it go). I hope you’ll still be around for the next phase of journey.

      Like

  6. Ive been following your blog posts, and the story of your son finding and reading your blog. I don’t have words right now, but I am listening and sending comforting thoughts your way. I, too, hope that you will allow us to follow you to your new blog. Xx💜

    Liked by 1 person

    • Alice! Yours was one of the first blogs I started reading, and I gained so much insight into myself and my therapy relationship from the way you interacted with Bea. I remember leaving a few comments and then feeling so happy and honored when you wrote back to me, and even more when you followed my blog. (“Wow, Alice is reading what I wrote!”) I feel like we’ve walked through a hurricane together. It still rains a lot and sometimes there are wind gusts of 80 mph, but dare I hope we might be through the worst of it???

      Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.