December 17th. The date my official blogging began. Two years ago.
I have tweeted and pinned. Embedded and pluggedin. Discovered an addiction to the word “just.”
My husband thinks my laptop is superglued to my thighs. My dog has become accustomed to my padding past his bed at 5:00 am. If he joins me, belatedly, his gaze reflects the same question. “Why are we getting up when it’s still dark?”.
I can’t count the number of people I have connected with. Wonderful supportive bloggers. Old friends. Absolute strangers who have commented or written to me about their lives. Their problems. I feel very honored.
Now we are at the holidays. A time when presents are wrapped and await our delight.
Yet I have received an early present. A totally unforeseen gift. From blogging.
I should have known. I give patients the assignment to journal all the time. Tell them it will help clarify their thoughts and feelings. Decrease obsessive thoughts that are keeping them stuck. Honor their own being and make important connections in their understanding of life. Of themselves.
Well, guess what? That has happened. To me.
One of the most valuable things about blogging – for me personally – is that I am peeling away my own protective layers. Becoming increasingly aware of what I believe. As a direct result of writing.
I always have thought of myself as being very honest. Or at least for a long time. (After I got some chaos-making out of my system and decided to grow up).
But there’s something about writing on the Internet that is leading me to be more clear. That clarity has led to more vulnerability. My own comprehension of what I have learned has exponentially grown. Words come to me, in my everyday world, that make my point more readily.
I guess it’s like any muscle. If you use it, it will grow.
Brain workouts. Frontal lobe planks.
They are doing me good.
I find myself talking with friends about things that I might have kept to myself before. Things that I think. Things that reveal more of who I am.
Maybe I had become accustomed to listening more and talking less. Result of being a therapist I guess.
I read others’ writing that I admire. Now I can more greatly appreciate the beauty of their words. The courage it takes to write with frankness. The art of turning a phrase or innately knowing how to help people laugh.
I hope to learn more.
Perhaps you have received a similar gift. I hope so.
Aren’t the very best gifts the unexpected ones?
I am treasuring mine.
To my fellow travelers on Midlife Boulevard, I hope your holiday season is meaningful and content. Thank you for giving me the gifts you already have.