Category — Blogoversary

If my blog were a person, they would be nearing the age of adulthood. Tomorrow begins their final year of childhood as they make their way through 365 days to their 18th birthday. It is my 17th blogoversary.

Last year I said:

Any time I think about not writing, I think about how I have this account of what I was thinking and feeling and going through for the majority of their life. It’s over 5000 posts and 84,000 comments, and we often scroll back through random months to find old stories.

I am grateful to have the record. I think more and more often about stopping this site or slowing down the pace. Though I also know that slowing down the pace is the first step in stopping altogether. And I love having this record. I love being able to look back and re-read old stories. It’s the push and pull of wanting and not wanting to stop. Both at the same time.

Thank you for reading the blog — either for a long or a short time, for one post or over 5,000.

This is, believe it or not, my 16th year of blogging. My 16th blogoversary. I started writing in this space 16 years ago.

And I’ve kept it up, year after year after year. Five times per week. Year after year after year.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the start of this blog because we’re once again at a crossroads. When I started this blog, the twins were giving up their bottles. And now they’re a year away from leaving for college. My heart is heavy. Melissa back then didn’t know how hard this time would be. She didn’t know those would truly be her final bottles because she would walk away from treatments a few years later without her third child. And while she could fathom that one day her kids would be grown, she couldn’t really understand how it would feel to hear them say something super clever or apply to a college or reach out to a friend in need.

Crap. I thought I was going to write about writing, but it always comes back to them.

Any time I think about not writing, I think about how I have this account of what I was thinking and feeling and going through for the majority of their life. It’s over 5000 posts and 84,000 comments, and we often scroll back through random months to find old stories — most recently the trip to the potato chip factory!

It is not too late if you haven’t written in your blog for a long time. You can do it today, and then do it tomorrow, and then maybe even the next day. And you will pop up in my feed reader because I haven’t removed you. A blog post from you would be a little gift to celebrate this milestone.

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

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Today marks the day when I’ve been writing this blog for 15 years. Almost a third of my life. Life math like that blows my mind. A third of my life has been spent recording my memories and thoughts in this space. Next year will tip the scales into the over category: from just under a third to just over a third. Consistently—I think my longest break has been five or so days? I’ve done that twice.

Back in the old days, I would have used my blogoversary to note lessons learned, but they really haven’t changed much over time. Set up time in your day to open a blank blog post. Write something down. Hit publish. Do it again the next day and the one after that. Give yourself a break or two in the week so you don’t get burned out. Keep this going for 5,475 days.

It’s a happy accident that this post falls on a Monday—on #MicroblogMonday, when I encourage you to write in your own space. Whatever you post on Facebook today, also post it on your blog. Do the same thing tomorrow. And the day after that. Speak with people in both spaces: the immediate response and the slower discussion. It’s just about owning your thoughts; keeping record of them in your space.

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Are you also doing #MicroblogMondays? Add your link below. The list will be open until Tuesday morning. Link to the post itself, not your blog URL. (Don’t know what that means? Please read the three rules on this post to understand the difference between a permalink to a post and a blog’s main URL.) Only personal blogs can be added to the list. I will remove any posts that are connected to businesses or are sponsored post.

It is my 14th blogoversary today, which is a fitting time to tell you this story about how my blog saved my life* this week.

Frost appeared on the contents of the freezer. We tried clearing out the ice in the freezer, but it didn’t fix the problem, and it only got worse—the refrigerator suddenly didn’t feel as cold as normal. We knew we had encountered a similar problem in the past and removed the back panel, but we couldn’t figure out how to do it again. We were stuck, and set up a repair call despite my fears of having workpeople in the house in the time of COVID-19.

Then I remembered that I wrote a blog post about the experience. A quick search brought up the correct post. It didn’t contain many details, but we now had a date, so we could look through files and try to find the video we used. We found that, too, though we still didn’t have instructions for how to get off the back panel. We were stuck.

Except… my blog gave me the date. So I went through my photos taken on that day, and found that we had photographed the location of the hidden screw we needed to remove.

The next morning, we woke early to get started. The video didn’t tell us to unplug the refrigerator, but my blog post did, so we unplugged it to be safe. It took about two hours to melt and clear out all of the ice and unblock the drain tube. This time, we documented the experience in detail with notes in my journal and videos. We’re waiting out the weekend to make sure we actually fixed the problem, but it’s currently looking and sounding better. It comes full circle because I’m now writing about it on my blog once again so I remember what we did.

For 14 years, I have shown up in this space. 30% of my life so far. I have documented the highs and lows, the news articles that caught my eye, the books I’ve read, the freezers I’ve saved. I’ve recorded my feelings about infertility and loss, the people who have come and gone, the changes that have taken place through my thirties and forties. This blog has been an amazing receptacle to hold my memories and return them to me when I need them.

Thank you, blog, for being there for me for 14 years. And thank you, to all of you, for reading it.

* Clearly, I do not live and breathe due to my blog, and the title is more a tongue-and-cheek usage of “saved” as in kept content. Though you can never be too careful right now about COVID-19. And all joking aside, I do believe that the connections I’ve made here have strengthened my mental health and wellbeing. So, yes, I don’t think “saved” is too strong a word.

This blog is 13 years old this week. I started it back in 2006, and I’ve posted on average 5 times per week for the last 13 years.

I’ve thought about stopping the blog about 100,000 times. I know, not the typical thing a person admits on their blogoversary, but you can’t talk about how you keep something going for 13 years without a break without admitting the other option: stopping.

There is a very simple way to get a 13-year-old blog: write for 13 years. That’s it. There is also a simple way to not have a 13-year-old blog: don’t write for 13 years. There is no magic, no advice beyond two words: show up. Sit down in front of the computer and talk about what is happening in your life or something you read or something that is annoying you at the moment or the very cute thing your guinea pig did when you opened the refrigerator door. I do that because the alternative is not doing it. Until I am completely certain that I’m ready, I will continue to show up because I know that once I take a tiny break, it will be over. I won’t be able to convince myself to show up again.

Because blogs take time. A lot of time. And you need to write them because you need to write one, not because you need someone to read it. That is a hard lesson to learn and take to heart. I’ve said it a lot over the years. I don’t check my stats anymore because it helps me to maintain that focus: I write for myself. I love that you are here and that you’re reading what I write. Blogging without anyone reading is very lonely, but loneliness isn’t a reason to stop. It’s just a feeling — one that is important to acknowledge — but it isn’t the endgame. I am the endgame, and I choose to show up.

So thank you for being here. Thank you especially to the ones who have been around for 13 years (or close to it). And thank you to the newer people who have found me along the way. I am so grateful for every word read.