I was reading Backwoods Mom last night and I wanted to share something from what she posted. I really wanted to just repost the whole thing but if you want to read it, check out her blog. She basically took something that's been bumping around in my brain for some time and put it in writing. I get emails from people, from time to time, asking for advice on this or that, or sharing their story of heartbreak or something similar to what I've shared on this blog in the past. Almost universally, emails I get start off with an apology or disclaimer. Most of the time people seem to feel creepy for emailing a stranger, or some similar sentiment. I can understand how it can feel weird to email someone you've never met, but I always feel like I'm the creep who posts photos of herself on the internet on a daily basis. Seriously guys, that's kind of creepy if you think about it. But I digress. Read:
Last night a young lady with a history much like my children’s wrote me a message and asked for advice. But before she asked, she spent several paragraphs telling me why she wasn’t worthy of my time. “…as if reading your blog somehow makes me worthy of placing myself in your life,” she said.
As if my time, my attention, my compassion was something of value and she…was not.
I can string words together in a way that is appealing to some, and I can make people laugh or cry… but that does not make me any more important than she. It does not make me special. It doesn’t make me somehow more worthy than anyone else. Nor does it make me any less in need of help, attention, or advice.
Because this blog is not ‘real’. The internet is not ‘real’. These are just words I put out there, only part of the whole, a fraction of what or who I am. It is, in some aspect a persona created by me…not really ‘me’ at all[...]
And because deep down we all suffer the same insecurities, when this girl came to me, with her beautifully written words of pain and struggle, telling me she is not worthy of my time…my first thought was,Bloggers, big and small, are real people. We're all struggling through this thing called life. No really, every. single. one. The bloggers who have 30,000 followers and the ones who just created their first blogger account. No blogger is less real, or less worthy, than the next. It pains me to think that anyone would think I have it all together, or that my life was perfect. Life is life, people. It will always have its ups and downs. Some days I feel great and on top of the world, like I could conquer anything. Other days I'm pretty much in tears off and on all day and feel completely worthless (oh hai, yesterday). But that's real. There's a lot going on in my life that I don't discuss on the blog. Some things might just take time to settle before I'm ready to say something about them, some things are personal and will never be shared. I've got shit I'm going through. We all do.
“But, honey…what makes you think I am worthy of YOURS?”
But isn't that the beauty of blogs? Everyone is real. Blogs aren't magazines with hundreds of writers, photographers, and graphic designers on staff. It's a little piece of someone's life. It's someone taking the time to be vulnerable and share part of their self with the world. But it's just that. Part of their self. Not the whole. You don't get the whole Elizabeth story here on the blog. Honestly, I feel that it would be impossible to boil the whole Elizabeth story down to a blog and I have no desire to. This blog isn't the whole story. It's real life, but it's just peering through a keyhole into one room of the house of my life.
I guess what I want you guys to know is that you're worthy. As the wise Eleanor Roosevelt once said, "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." I'm just a girl behind a computer, writing a blog, and trying to not screw up this one life I have to live. Some days I feel more successful at it than others.
