Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Open windows

I change in front of open windows. I do it all the time. I tell myself that I will be quick, that nobody is looking, that I barely have anything for a wandering eye to see. I change in front of open windows even though I know that I shouldn’t. Even though I know that somebody could be watching.

I blog in much the same way.

And I was reminded of that yesterday.

First, there was an anonymous comment. Then a follow up email that came in response to my panicked pulling a few of the posts that I wrote last week. I was in the middle of changing and I turned around and saw two eyes staring right at me and then I remembered why you don’t change in front of windows in the first place. Because you’re vulnerable and you’re exposed.

But I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t change in front of open windows.

And I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t blog the way that I blog.

I have been blogging for nearly seven years. I have written 2,037 posts. And if you wanted to read through those 2,037 posts, you could gather enough information to figure out where I used to work. And where I work now. You could easily learn my first, middle and last names. You could dig around and come up with Meg’s stats and the team she’s coaching now and where she is at grad school. You would know the church where we held Aunt Marie’s funeral. You could figure out every show my cousin Danielle has acted in as a professional. You could dig up the cause of death of the grandfather I never knew. You could determine the rinks that I skated at and the soccer teams I played on and the high school that I attended. You could gather up enough information to email my mom at work or call my dad at home or send flowers to my grandma.

I know this. I have known this. Just as I change in front of open windows even though I know that I shouldn’t. Just as I know that somebody could be watching.

I have never turned around to find someone watching me.

And I have never had reason to think that someone would care enough to read my blog, piecing together tiny clues and throwing them into a search engine. The clues that are undoubtedly there. And the research doesn’t require much skill. But for me? For this insignificant blog with the tiny following?

I knew that it could happen but I didn’t think that it would. And it did. And it scared the shit out of me.

But the posts that I pulled yesterday are live again.

If I delete one post, I should delete them all. Nearly seven years. 2,037 total.

And I’m not going to do that. I can’t do that.

Maybe in the future. But not now.

I’m not ashamed of what I have written here. This blog is my truth and this blog is me and I have spent too much of my life feeling scared and embarrassed to be my genuine self. I’m not going to delete seven years of truth. Messy, ugly, complicated truth. My truth. Me.

This fling with The Coach has given me long-overdue permission to be myself in a setting where I am normally very reserved. Around him, I don't try to be anyone but myself. Neurotic and silly. Unexplained, ugly purple bruises. Horrible jokes. Messy hair. Imperfections and honesty and every trait that makes me the person who I am. Amongst all of the things that I am - a sister and a runner and a reader and a baker - I am a blogger.

For the time being, I will continue to be a blogger.

Clearly, I need to be more careful. Obviously, I need to watch my back and my blog statistics and my Tweets and the pictures that I post and the places that I reference.

But I believe that I could never write so generically that I could ever be assured of being completely anonymous. Which makes this a matter of blogging versus not blogging. And I'm not going to stop blogging.

So, if it is your prerogative, search around. Take notes. Deduce the name of my primary care physician. Find the lake my parents live on and plug it in Google Earth.

Or you could take the straightforward approach and simply ask me the question that you want to type into the search engine. I'm neither as quick nor as fast as Google, but I know the subject fairly well.

And it's the decent thing to do.

3 comments:

Kari said...

Well written...
K

as Always said...

I love your blog. I read a ton but yours is always one of my absolute favorites because it's honest and open and real.

I had a similar freak out from an anonymous comment - geeze I don't know how many years ago now - but it seemed like a professor at my university was reading my blog. And on my blog I'm going on and on about school and weight and boys and my job as I would in a diary.

I pulled my blog and made it private but it's never been the same as when random people could wander by and leave you a happy (or weird & evil) comment. I miss being public.

So, I'd like to say kudos to you to put your posts back up! Your blog is wonderful & I'm happy that you're still willing to share. :)

Thisisme said...

I care enough to know all those things. I'm just not creepy enough to act on them. what a freakshow that comment poster is!

 
Blog Template by Delicious Design Studio