Leading marketing blogger, Michael Hyatt, asked yesterday, "Do You Make These 10 Mistakes When You Blog?" Well, this blogger doesn't make all ten of them, and nobody's going to accuse me of posting too often, but I certainly make most of them. Of course, Hyatt's article is based on the assumption that every blogger blogs for traffic, which isn't necessarily so. I started this blog because I wanted to scream from somewhere the things I couldn't say in real life. It was initially named "My Rants" and can still be found at myrants.blog-city.com, but it didn't take any time before readers showed up and started leaving comments, which quickly bloomed into conversations that quickly spread to their blogs, and, next thing I knew, I didn't feel right writing so publicly about the things I came here to write about, mostly the difficult people in my life, maybe difficult people in general, and sometimes the dangerous institutions they create when they gather in an organized fashion and continue to behave badly as a group.
So, a circle was formed. I felt lonely and isolated by close relationships with difficult people, some of whom have since died. I was driven to write, driven to publish those words, driven to have them be seen, but once I realized they were seen, once I found people who wanted to hear what I was saying, who commented with thoughtful understanding, I suddenly couldn't write about it, but didn't need to so much anymore because, in the course of seeking to be seen and heard, I was. By not looking for traffic, by writing what was in my heart, by fiercely protecting the avocation, I filled the void that drove me here. Now, I've been here so long and said so much and met so many wonderful online people, that I have this sexy little search machine and no clue what I want to do with it, no idea what's left that I need to say, 'cause I know that all I have to do to make it heard by many, is tag.
Of course, there are still difficult people and I still wish I could talk to them about it, but I know better. There will always be those so self-conscious they can't ever relax with or into another, those who deflect meaningful interaction by turning immediately to quick and focused anger out of a primal need to pretend there's such a thing as getting to control another, such a thing as winning a fight with one they claim to love. Vicious words negate pretenses of affection and aren't gone just because they're not being said at the moment. Once said, they can't just be left out there. I'm not suggesting that we should expect to live our lives without any anger, but anger without full acknowledgment of the pain we've caused, without genuine remorse expressed as long as it's necessary to assuage the hurt we leave behind, kills love. I promise. The regular recipient of anger, especially if they're in recovery from such behavior themselves, having finally chosen not to be that way any more even if it is how they were raised (which it most likely was if they're in a relationship with someone who interacts that way), is left with no choice except a deepening internal retreat, inevitably asking for nothing from the other, except away.
So, it's my birthday, and I'm indulging myself. I'm going too long after posting too infrequently. I'm not focused on my brand. In fact, I'm not selling anything, but talking about me, me, me. I'm staking a claim on my little corner, building my place where I can talk about anything I damn well please and if you get ugly about it, I can toss your ass out of here, ranting. I'm indulging myself and repeating myself because I can, and to my loyal readers, my fine and honored internet friends who've heard this all before, please forgive me for needing to say it again and again:
Calling some feeling you have inside yourself love, doesn't make it love. If it's just about the feeling you have and doesn't manifest as a loving pattern of interaction driven by a generosity of spirit towards the other, then is doesn't matter what you call it, it isn't love, but rather a form of emotional masturbation, immature and self-indulgent. Unlike it's physical counterpart, it's gross. If your primary motivation isn't the other's genuine fulfillment, joy and happiness, then you don't love them. No one will ever win anything or convince another of their rectitude, by seeking to hurt through anger. This is just a fact. All that matters is reality, what actually happens between us when we interact. There's no one watching, no arbiter to judge our performances and declare a winner. In relationships, it's just the people, the family, the friends, whether they're parents and children, spouses, siblings, employers and employees. In relationships, the way people treat each other whether alone or when others are watching is all that matters, and when one person uses preemptive anger defensively, everyone loses. 100% of the time. Guaranteed.
A relationship in which one must hide one's reality, in which there is no safe way to resolve conflict, alleviate discomfort or facilitate intimacy, isn't a relationship at all; and when one person wants to pretend to be the loving sibling, parent, spouse, child or friend to the whole world while interacting hatefully in private or behind one's back, well, no amount of calling that love can make it be love. And it doesn't help to know that we all started as innocents, that people who use anger to deflect intimacy got that way because it was done to them, because it was done to many of us, and at some point we have to say we're adults and take responsibility for how we choose to be with others, at some point we have to choose to change, or else we all lose. Finally, it isn't loving to let someone we claim to love or at least to have tried to love, treat us that way because ultimately it damages the abuser more than it does the abused who's survived and moved on, and the last act of love we can give them is to withdraw, and take away their method of self abhorrence by harming others, finally refusing to be a part of their offense. Just because we embrace another's faults as geological, their broken places, the cracks in the rock, doesn't mean we should allow it to continue, participate.
I'm not exactly sure where that rant came from, 'cause I've had a wonderful Thanksgiving (and birthday) weekend and I hope you have too, but thanks for listening. Now there's a Thanksgiving post I haven't written about how the holiday needs a PR makeover and how we should drop the silly delusional Pilgrim romanticizing, especially given what came after, and focus on the National Holiday that Lincoln declared in an effort to bring healing to a war-scarred nation, because that's what it really is, or at least some ancient pagan harvest ritual, but I digress, as usual.
But now we'll return to our regularly scheduled programming, or the lack thereof. Oh, and there's going to be a test on this, every day.
Peace, y'all.
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