Not Alone

So…in the last 24 hours, the 30 to 50 of you who usually visit have had some extra company.  My blog has had about 500 more visitors than usual, thanks to the kind and gracious Rob Lowe’s sweet twitter comment about my latest Book Report.  I can’t put into words how I felt when I saw that tweet.  It was his book, for crying out loud.  I read his book and said what I thought.  I have no way of knowing how many people tweet him every day, but the man has more than 300,000 Twitter followers.  And yet, one little tweet from little me made it to Mr. Lowe’s eyes, and he read my little blog, and sent it out to the world.  “Thank you for such kind words,” he told me.  Just because I shared what I thought.  Surreal.

(I feel very awkward with Twitter vocabulary.  Am I using the verbiage correctly?)

As I occasionally do, I have been wondering lately why I do this.  Why keep a blog at all?  What good is it to anyone?

I write because I need to.  I share because it must get out, be set free into the world, or it will eat me alive.  I don’t know what “it” is.  But it must be released.  And so, I keep blogging.

And every now and then, something I write will elicit a small response.  Someone will leave a comment.  Or email me.  Or mention something in person.  And they cared.  They read what I thought; they heard me.  And they wanted me to know that they connected.  That somehow, my desire to talk about what I think and feel helped them somehow.

That’s why I have come to love autobiographies.  It’s not easy to share what you truly feel, who you really are at the deepest level.  When someone else is brave enough to take that step, and I connect to it, I feel an intense desire to tell them.  I want to say, “I hear you.  I’ve felt that, too.  Thank you for reminding me that I am not alone.”  Walking their journey has been healing for me, somehow.

Journaling is beautifully comforting.  Praying is wildly important.  But sharing is an act of healing.  I write painfully, terrifyingly honest paragraphs because I have experienced the exhilarating relief of “getting it all out.”  Out where someone can see it, if they want.  It’s the only way through, that I know of.  In the moment of writing, bravely and honestly where someone can read it, it’s all about catharsis.

But after the writing, here is the biggest lesson I’ve learned:  You never know what will find someone.  When I type late into the night, with the tears streaming down, and changing my mind ten times before taking the brave step to click “publish”…  It never fails; I am always certain that is the story that will send my few readers running for the hills.  It was too personal.  Too honest.  Maybe I should take it back; delete it before too many people read it.  But it also never fails…That is the story that will cause someone will thank me for finding them in my writing.  “I hear you,” they say.  “I connected.  Thank you for reminding me that I am not alone.”

And so, dear visitors, thank you for reading.  Thank you for allowing me to share.  You are not alone.  We are not alone.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. megan
    Apr 14, 2012 @ 20:46:16

    You rock. Have I mentioned that lately? Well, if not, thanks. You rock. 🙂

    Reply

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