I’m going to post this a few minutes early so it will officially go live on December 1st, 2024, the 12th anniversary of my blog. I’m a little stunned that I’m still at it. I certainly never expected to still be here, randomly musing at you, but this blog has brought a lot of positivity into my life. I’ve met a lot of fascinating people, I’ve improved my writing skills, and I’ve learned quite a bit by doing research for these posts.
It has also been therapeutic. I’m beginning to realize that for most of my life, I haven’t truly been heard. In this forum, I can get my thoughts out there. Even if a particular post is only viewed by 2 or 3 people, I’ve sent my words on their merry way, and because of that I feel strangely validated.
I’ve recently added a “random post” button to my page, and I’ve used it several times myself. Since this is my 3,685th blog post, I’ve forgotten the bulk of them, so I never quite know what I’ll be getting. I have to admit that a few of them are kind of cringe-worthy, but for the most part I’ve left them alone, because it’s reflective of the person I was at the time they were written.
We all learn and grow over time, but I can barely recognize the person I was 12 years ago. I had no idea how in the dark I was about who I am at my core. My recent autism diagnosis has shined a light into some previously unlit corners of my psyche, and now I have greater insight into why so many things from my past played out the way they did, and I also have a lot more understanding of why I react the way I do, and why I think the way I think.
It’s like that diagnosis was the key to me, and now I’m unlocked. I wish certain people in my life had stuck around long enough to know this new, improved version of myself. Maybe they’d understand that even though I can be a lot, I’m worth the effort after all. I’m not saying I don’t have my flaws. We all do. But people might have found me more worthy of their time had they known why I am the way I am. I’m actually a good friend to have. I wish there were a universal translator that could convert neurotypical speech into neurodivergent and vice versa. That would make my life much simpler. But I digress.
If someone had sat me down back in December of 2012 and told me how our culture would be today, I don’t think I’d have believed them. I suppose the me of 2036 will be able to say the same thing about the present me. Things are changing much more quickly than I ever anticipated. Given the present state of the world, that’s rather scary, if I’m honest.
I’ve been struggling to blog since the election. I’ve been finding it impossible to listen to the news, regardless of the source, and I only pop into social media to post my blogs, and then I scamper away as if my a$$ were on fire. I do that because I’m not okay. And by that, I mean that I don’t think I can take one more bit of fearmongering or one more shocking insight into the defective moral compasses of some of the people I thought I knew.
I kind of like it inside this self-imposed bell jar. It’s been a much-needed respite from the chaos. I don’t think I’ll be able to maintain it forever, but at the moment it serves me well. Fortunately, I had the foresight to bring potato chips and coffee ice cream with me.
Having said that, the problem with bell jars is that they don’t leave much room for writing inspiration. The blogging well is much drier than it once was. When I do come up with a topic, I’m almost afraid to write about it, because things are changing so rapidly that I worry that anything I post will seem quaint or trite by the time you read it. I’m struggling to keep up with societal norms. I’m not sure I want to.
This mental isolation comes with a big, steaming pile of guilt, too. I genuinely believe that it’s everyone’s civic duty to stay informed, to speak out against inequity, to uplift innovation, and to warn people of imminent doom and remind them to flex the humanity muscle that many of us seem to be allowing to atrophy. None of us can afford to take a break, and yet here I sit, trying to tell myself that I need to gather my strength and live to fight another day.
It will take as many of us as possible to bend the arc of the moral universe toward justice, and I haven’t been pitching in for the past month. I’m finding it impossible to do so at the moment. I am grateful to those who are keeping the torch raised above the muck and mire. It matters. I just feel like the last time I held that torch, I somehow got third degree burns as a result. I need time to heal. Please be patient with me.
So, on this blogiversary, I can’t give you any shining predictions about what The View from a Drawbridge will look like moving forward. It, too, changes and grows over time, and I’m beginning to think that I have a lot less influence over its various iterations than I used to believe. In the past I’ve said that this blog “is me on a page”, but now I think it might be something else again. In a way, it has a life of its own. You just never know what will cause an intended trajectory to veer off.
This blog has always been different things to different people. I’ve been gratified to hear that it has touched people in ways I never anticipated. Every once in a while, it has given people comfort, if only by making them feel that they’re not alone. That’s a good thing. That’s why I’m not ready to give it up. Not yet. Just know that I can feel myself changing, and that’s bound to impact this blog, too. We’ll see how it goes.
Thank you, Dear Readers, for taking this journey with me. Tempus sure does fugit. I look forward to discovering what lies around the bend with you.
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