The one thing that links all of my favorite blogs isn’t content, or even style, exactly. It’s truth. I like reading blogs the same way that I like walking by houses in the dark and glancing through open windows and doors to catch a peek at the vignettes of life within. It makes me feel closer to humanity. It gives me proof that I’m not alone.
Blogs that only share happy thoughts bore me. They come off as fake, somehow. My favorites are the people who’re endeavoring to share a little piece of their soul with the Internet, people who are brave enough to be vulnerable. I don’t care if the blogs I’m reading tell deep, dark secrets, or if they’re just sharing bits and pieces from everyday existence. It’s really all the same to me. I want my friends to talk to me about the big bad shit as well as the minutiae. Tell me about the look in that guy’s eye as he cut you off in traffic, or about how you knocked over your water glass during a business lunch and it made you feel like a total ass, or about how dance class makes you weirdly gassy, or your struggles to quit eating so much chocolate. It’s not the information, it’s the intent that makes it so endearing.
For the most part, lately I like to read blog posts by people who’re wrestling with feeling useful. It helps me figure out how to say the things I know need to be said, the things I’ve yet to find the words for. With that in mind, I guess I’ll tell you something new about myself: I’ve found a therapist. It’s online counseling, which means I can “visit” with the therapist whenever I’d like to talk about all of the things that are going on in this old brainpan. I’m hoping that she can help me work out why I’m so anxious, and help me figure out ways to mitigate the stress I’m going through so I can start to live a better life. Guess we’ll see.