Why did you start blogging?
I get asked this question often and I am always quick to answer because I know exactly why I started blogging. I was weary of the mean people in society being able to abuse the rest of us with their tirades and their lies and never being able to tell my side of the story, or be heard. I was taught it wasn’t polite to lash out or to even defend oneself against the travesties of other vile human beings, so I stayed quiet. In other instances, my hands were tied and I wasn’t allowed to say anything because of professional reasons. I needed an outlet!
Then I had a dream on Sunday.
I was standing next to this tree on the edge of a forest. I am not sure exactly where in the world I was, but it was dusk and I was watching a herd of wild deer wake up and start to move around. They were gathering their bearings and preparing to forage for food that night. The herd wasn’t afraid of me, in fact they walked right past me as if I was standing there waiting for them like that every evening.
The stranger part of the herd was that mixed among the wild deer were people that had gone to high school with my husband. Not too many, but a few. They were all dressed in denim and smiled as they passed by me. I heard the tinkle of laughter and it felt joyful because another day had begun and they were doing what they knew how to do now and loving it. They never spoke to me, but I already knew they had given up their worldly goods and lives in my world to live among the wild deer herds and exist as the deer existed. They were totally at peace with their decision.
Out of the herd a yearling trotted over to me. He was quietly bleating for attention and I reached out to pet his small head. The mom walked past us and looked back over her shoulder, but made no move to force her baby to follow her. The small deer had very long brown hair, like a Persian cat, and it was downy soft and shiny like everything new and fresh would be. I reached over again and began stroking his back. He was a beautiful and unusual looking creature and no one else in the herd looked anything like him.
Each time I would move my hand down his body he would flinch, as if I were hurting him, but he wanted the love more than he disliked the discomfort, so he stood still while I touched him. There were small bumps just under his fur and when I reached the bottom part of his back I found huge mats of clumped hair where the downy undercoat had knotted into itself. They looked angry and inflamed. I knew why he was flinching now.
I thought about getting the electric shears, but the mats were so big and very close to the skin and the blades might rip the fur out rather than cut it cleanly loose. Besides I thought the sound of the machine might scare the small deer and I didn’t want him to remember this experience as frightening.
I knew I had a pair of very small cuticle scissors from my manicure kit and I pulled those out and tested them on a smaller mat. This would be a much slower process, but I had nowhere else I needed to be and the baby deer seemed content to snuggle under my arm.
So I settled in for the evening and began the arduous process of slowly snipping away at those angry mats of fur until they were all gone. While I worked I could feel the loving warmth of this baby’s body snuggled close to mine with pure and unconditional love and trust.
It was 5am and my eyes were open and I knew at that moment why I blogged.
My thoughts and feelings were like those angry matted balls of fur. They were numerous with some much larger than others, but all of them painfully pulling at me everyday. After a long time it hurt to let people get close to me. I wanted to trust them, but if the mats were the result then perhaps it wasn’t worth it. I finally trusted my writing to help me process what was happening to me and when I gave in and allowed it to wash over me I started feeling a little safer, a little less stressed and a little bit braver. Metaphorically, my blog has been that small pair of cuticle scissors slowly snipping away at the gnarly mats of fears until they were smaller and sometimes completely released.
I knew from the start that I wasn’t writing my blog so that someone else would come to read it. I have never written a single word here that was for that purpose. I love my readers! But my blog has always been my own personal brand of therapy.
I have never written my blog to hurt other people either. I think that’s important to note here because I have seen vengeful blogs and I have even been personally victimized online by a vengeful blogger. I have never named names or given readily available identifiers about anyone I blog about and tend more to blog about the bad behavior than the individual. I never wanted any one particular person to be the reason I would write.
I believe the person that strikes out to purposely hurt and defame someone with a blog, or otherwise, is a very sick and demented individual and should seek professional counseling.
All the time readers would tell me they sure hoped some of the bad people I did write about would read my blog and seek help. I would tell them what I knew to be true and that is the people I write about would never read my blog because they don’t think they are doing anything wrong. I blog more for the people being abused by them, as I was. My goal was recovery from abuse and in finding my own way I hope to help them find theirs.
I have written about my own experiences here. I have processed my life, thought it out, mulled it over and I have sought remedies that would make my life better and happier. This has all worked for me and it has been a pleasure for me to share this part of my life with all of you.
My one wish is that you find something here that gently removes the matted fur from your life so you may be open to allowing others to love you for the beauty you really are. Until next time this is Madeline Laughs and I will be waiting for you at dusk at the edge of the forest with a warm hug.