I continue to struggle with finding what place, if any, this blog holds in my life anymore. Fleeting thoughts on current events make more sense to share on social media, as those will be seen more immediately and by way more people. Then as I mentioned recently, Facebook has taken the place of this blog in terms of me trying to record any semblance of a journal.
Side note… just thinking about that gives me anxiety, as you may have gathered I like to hold on to information. There are years of my thoughts and “social” interactions that only Facebook has a record of. My nature is to want my own copy of that in case anything ever happens to Facebook, but I can’t imagine what it would take to get a dump of all of one’s Facebook activity. But that’s a problem for another day.
I guess broader expositions about life in general still belong here at least? To that end, this is where I’d get into those big thoughts and major happenings. But here, too, Facebook complicates matters. In the last several years, we’ve all come to increasingly understand (and fear?) data privacy issues and the influence big data has on our politics, finances, and lives in general. Who among us has’t been unnerved by the prescience of an eerily-timed advertisement on our feed? I don’t imagine I’m alone then in being a little wary of what kind of personal information I share here (or anywhere). This may have changed since my early days of blogging, but I’m usually pretty careful about names and locations. I never talk about where I may or may not work.
Perhaps I’m being paranoid, but for those reasons, it also seems risky to talk openly about health stuff. So I guess for the time being, I’ll engage in what I believe the kids call “vaguebooking” in order to record something for posterity in lieu of a true journal. Suffice it to say it’s been a rough couple of months health-wise — physically, mentally, and emotionally. Possibly the worst of my life, and that’s not an exaggeration. The Universe, in its infinite wisdom, has really been piling it on lately. It’s led me to touch on rare (if not altogether new) depths of anxiety, depression, and even anger. But I have support, I’m fighting hard, and I’m surviving. For now, that’s gotta be enough. What choice is there? You endure… until you can’t.
“Only to the extent that we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible be found in us.”— Pema Chödrön