Welcome back to IComLeavWe. It stands for International Comment Leaving Week, but if you say it aloud, doesn’t it sounds like “I come; [but] leave [as a] we”? And that’s sort of the point. Blogging is a conversation and comments should be honoured and encouraged. I like to say that comments are the new hug–a way of saying hello, giving comfort, leaving congratulations.

Here is the vital information, pure and simple (a more detailed set of rules follows below the list):

• The list opens the 1st of every month. It remains open until the 21st. You can add yourself at any point. The list is open to everyone in the blogosphere–blog writers and/or blog readers.
• Add yourself to the list by filling out this form: The list is now closed (the list for May will open after April 28th)
  
• Click here to cut-and-paste this bit of code to add to your sidebar (if you have the old code from another month, remove it and replace it with this one). You need to add the icon or a link to the current list on your blog (see below) and will not be added until it’s up.
• Commenting kicks off every month on the 21st. Please mark it somewhere (calendar, post-it note taped to your computer…), though I will be sending out an email reminder on the 20th. Commenting week runs from the 21st to the 28th. Every day, leave 5 comments and return 1 comment for a total of 6 comments. You are highly encouraged to choose the blogs you comment on from the participants list below, but this is not required.
• I will send a second email on the 28th to remind you to remove the icon from your blog.
• Read below if you want to find out about Iron Commenters.
• The commenting ends on the 28th. We catch our breath and the whole thing starts again the next month on the 1st. Drop in and out according to what is happening in your life between the 21st and the 28th.

1. Stirrup Queens (twins, books, writing)
2. Life and Love in the Petri Dish (FET pregnancy after six losses, humor, wonder)
3. Navigating Cyberloss (grief, loss, recovery)
4. Follow Every Rainbow (male factor infertility “dynamic”)
5. Our Pathway to Parenthood (infertility, IVF, septate uterus)
6. The Adventures Of An Infertile Myrtle (naprotechnology, infertility, creighton model method)
7. Bereaved and Blessed (parenting, secondary infertility, loss)
8. It Is What It Is (Or Is It?) (donated embryos, ttc #2, infertility)
9. The Empty Uterus (infertility, IUI, life)
10. Weathering Storms (parenting after transracial adoption)
11. The Quest for Little Lambies (spirituality, pregnant, hope)
12. Baby-Making Merry-go-Round (IVF#1, emotions, teaching)
13. The Infertility Voice (donor egg, infertility, empowerment)
14. Bébé Suisse (miscarriage, ttc, switzerland)
15. Carneyexploits (IUI #1, gardening, PCOS)
16. (In)fertility Unexplained (IVF, unexplained infertility)
17. Non Sequitur Chica (IUI, exercise, garden)
18. My Bum Ovaries (premature ovarian failure)
19. From Gutter to Stars (new blog, therapist, infertility & adoption)
20. Endometriosis: Journey of a Woman Warrior (endometriosis, loss, infertility)
21. Life in the Last Frontier (open adoption, parenting a toddler, pcos)
22. Waiting For Baby (pcos, ttc, thyroid)
23. MoJo Working (infertility, RPL, ttc 10 years+)
24. My Lady of the Lantern (unexplained infertility, neonatal loss, new baby)
25. Feeling Beachie (life, humor, husbands and wives)
26. Living Our Life in Cycles (ivf, pregnancy, change)
27. Meier Madness (pcos, fet #2, calming the crazy)
28. 1000 Oceans (babyloss, IVF, grief)
29. Searching for our silver lining (FET, pregnant after loss, finding balance)
30. If You Don’t Stand For Something (MFI, geekiness, life)
31. Created Family (tcm, miscarriage, social worker)
32. Living With Endo (and Infertility) (endo, infertility, life)
33. Writing for Life (stillbirth, healing, new hope)
34. David & Elizabeth Adopt (infertility, adoption, life)
35. Three Geminis and a Sagittarius (parenthood, twins, life)
36. My Hormonacoaster (finally pregnant after 10+ years of trying)
37. Our Journey (PCOS, diabetes, TTC#1)
38. Lessons from an Infertile Social Worker (domestic open adoption)
39. Finding My New Normal (stillbirth, egg donor, pregnant again)
40. Our Growing Gardunn (secondary rpl, clomid, septum)
41. The 2 Week Wait (infertility, pregnancy, humor)
42. Bread of Baby (health, low carb, infertility)
43. The Pussy Palace (pcos, iui, books)
44. Notes from the Ninth Circle (waiting, IVF, PGD)
45. Not All Dreams Are Free (Infertility, planning, miscarriage)
46. Destined to be an old woman with no regrets (RPL, parenting after loss, life)
47. Life After Stillbirth (stillbirth, hope, ttc)
48. Musings of a Hormonal Egg Basket (parenting after IVF)
49. I’m Just Ducky, Thanks (adoption, RPL, surrogacy)
50. MRKH Musings (infertility, mrkh, surrogacy)
51. The Bickerstaff Blog (coping, miscarriage, life)
52. A Woman My Age (adoption, infertility, parenting after 40)
53. Naturally Knocked Up (natural fertility, PCOS, miscarriage)
54. The Stork Drop Zone (infertility, parenting, hobbies)
55. The Childless Mom (ivf-icsi, fet, pregnancy #1)
56. Return To Go (infertility, pcos, miscarriage)
57. The Brooding Woman (ttc, weight loss, anejaculation)
58. Inconceivable! (donor egg, step-parenting, daily life)
59. Marilyn and Thetan’s little Angel (pregnancy after IVF)
60. My Journey to Get Fit and Battle PCOS (PCOS, weightloss, IF)
61. Locked Womb Mystery (IVF#1, long-timer, geeky stuff)
62. Cease and Decyst (pcos, anovulation, irreverence)
63. Life is Simple, It’s Just Not Easy (fet #1, post cancer, life)
64. TheStorkDiaries (ttc 2+ years, 30-something, IUI)
65. Tiny Bits of Hope (infertility, iui, stress)
66. ErnieGirl (infertile birthmother and mommy, TTC#2)
67. Lori Does Maryland (PAL, ivf, parenting)
68. Dog Mom Chasing the Stork (infertility, PCOS, married life)
69. The Barreness (art, infertility, wandering)
70. Adrift on a Dandelion Breeze (stillbirth, secondary IF, IVF)
71. Infertility Unexplained (fet, unexplained infertility)
72. My Life in a Nut Shell (pregnancy after loss, repeate miscarriage, coping)
73. Between the Paper Sheets (infertility, iui, marriage)
74. The Misadventures of MIssohkay (adoption, pregnancy loss)
75. The In Between (recurrent miscarriage, infertility)
76. Creating a Family (infertility, adoption, parenting)
77. The Hopeful Pink Lady (infertility, hope, faith)
78. Zero Guarantees (after years-suro twins)
79. She’s Gone Crunchy (infertility/health, natural parenting, cloth diapering)
80. Cherish This Day (2 girls, PCOS, trying again)
81. Tales from the Waiting Room (infertility, iui, ttc)
82. The Ladies in Waiting Book Club (infertility, community, photography project)
83. The Elusive Second Line (TTC #1, PCOS, depression)
84. Living Our Miracle (embryo adoption, premature ovarian failure, motherhood)
85. A Page In My Book (family, IF grad, special needs kids)
86. MissConception (twin loss, FET #1, TTC#1)
87. Journey to Somewhere (IVF, FET, unexplained IF)
88. Dwelling on dreams (early pregnancy, recurrent miscarriage, loss)
89. Getting It Sorted: life after loss and the steps to remain sane (pregnancy after loss)
90. A Half Baked Life (food, parenting after loss, yoga)
91. Thefertilitydaily (free micro-ivf contest, infertility, donor egg [commercial space])
92. No Kidding in NZ (infertile, no kids)
93. Scrambled Eggs (ivf, autoimmune, cats)
94. Believing in June (failed IVF, looking for answers, TTC #2)
95. Conceptionally Challenged (infertility, life, randomness)
96. Bloggers for Hope (ivf, loss, endometriosis)
97. Tippy & Tidy’s Tumultuous Trip to (Twin) Toddlers (donor eggs, pregnant after infertility, infertility awareness)
98. Infertile in a Fertile Land (egg donor, expat)
99. Journey to the Finish Line (infertility, running, the kitchen sink)
100. Infertile FirstMom (ivf #1, infertility, adoption/birthmotherhood)
101. Modern Medicine Miracle (military, donor sperm, pregnancy loss)
102. Nursing Infertility (pregnant after bilateral tubal occlusion)
103. Being Jamielynn (infertility, life, randomness)
104. infertile myrtle (parenting after infertility, accutane, traveling spouse)
105. for all the things we hope for (endometriosis, long-term infertility, nursing school)
106. A Blanket 2 Keep (IUI, life, hope)
107. Inconceivable! (early pregnancy after FET)
108. Breathe Gently (infertility, ivf, everydaylife)
109. Hapa Hopes (ivf, ivf, ivf)
110. The list is now closed (the list for May will open after April 28th)

Q: What if I miss a day?

A: Catch up the next day by doubling your comments–12 comments instead of 6.

Q: What if I have two blogs? Can I sign up twice, listing both blogs?

A: Yes, but you also need to double your comments. If you have two blogs listed, you should be leaving 12 comments per day.

Q: What is an Iron Commenter?

A: Not for the faint-of-heart. People who wish to be an Iron Commenter and be entered on the Iron Commenter honour roll need to leave a comment on every blog on the participants list (exceptions are blogs that require you to have a special log-in, such as some LiveJournal accounts or other similar situations). You can spread out this commenting any way you wish over the whole week, but the final comment needs to be left by midnight on the 28th (EST). Reaching Iron Commenter status is done on an honour system. Please email me if you earn Iron Commenter status so I can add you to the wall of honour.

Q: Why do I have to add that bit of code to my sidebar?

A: The code is the latest icon (the icon changes colour every month so you know that you’re on the right list). This month, the icon is blue, the next month it will be yellow, etc. The reason is two-fold: (1) it enables more people to find out about IComLeavWe and (2) it gives you easy access to the current list once the commenting week actually begins and better ensures that you’ll use it. Too many times, people sign up and forget to actually do IComLeavWe and this icon gives you a daily reminder (with the dates on it) every time you open your own blog. The icon is linked back to the current list. On the 28th, remove the icon from your blog. A new one will be created for the next month.

Q: It’s the 23rd and I just saw this for the first time on my friend’s blog! I want to join the list–why can’t I?

A: Because IComLeavWe happens every month, once the list is closed, it’s closed. If you’re finding out about this on the 23rd, you can’t join the current month. But leave yourself a note to check back in a week on the 1st and you can sign up for the next month.

Q: You said the list closes on the 21st. Well, it’s still the 21st where I am. Why aren’t you moving my information onto the list?

A: All dates and times are U.S. Eastern Standard Time (UTC/GMT -5 hours). The list closes around 11 p.m. EST on the 21st.

Q: What if no one comments on my blog and I have no comments to return?

A: Well, that really doesn’t happen for the most part, but in that case, simply choose another blog and add an additional comment. The goal is to hit 6 comments daily as a minimum. Going over that is fantastic and encouraged.

Q: Mel, my question wasn’t covered at all. What do I do?

A: Email me; I’m quite friendly. It helps to place “IComLeavWe” in the subject line. You could also check this post which contains the history of IComLeavWe and see if you can glean anything there.

Looking for the comment section? It has been closed on this post. Use the form in the directions to add yourself to the list.

Anyone who has read my blog for an extended period of time knows I am a big fan of the analogy.  Analogies are the verbal door through which people can step who want to understand another person’s experience.  They may never belong to that group, but they should walk away from reading the post with an a-ha moment that gives them insight into another person’s world as they connect it to their own life experiences.

In other words, they may not be able to comprehend the exhaustion that comes from infertility, but they can certainly understand the exhaustion that would come from running a marathon, and they can finally bridge the two occurrences, taking what they understand about one and placing it alongside the other.

If one analogy can bring a small amount of insight, imagine what hundreds of analogies could do to give people panoramic insight into an experience.

Every month, I will be introducing a theme that will go up around the 1st with a linked list of participant posts that will close the last day of the month.  The themes will range from groups as broad as women (how best to explain to male lawmakers how it feels to have your feet in the gynecological stirrups) to as specific as mental illness.

In honour of NIAW, National Infertility Awareness Week (April 22 – 28) as well as my roots, I kick off The Analogy Project with April 2012’s theme:

Infertility and Loss

This is an inclusionary project with the only guideline being that the post’s intention is to bring understanding.  Participants may have experienced infertility or pregnancy/infant loss themselves, or they may be a friend or family member who also want to explain how infertility has affected their lives inadvertently.  Infertility spans both cases that are biological (eg. premature ovarian failure) and situational (eg. GLBT) in nature.

If you’ve already written a post on your blog that fits the theme, there is no need to reinvent the wheel.  You can submit your old post via the submission form below.  If you don’t have a post that fits the bill but would like to participate, you have until April 30th to write a post that examines one aspect of infertility or loss (or — if you choose — create an umbrella analogy that explains infertility or loss as a whole) — tell people with an analogy what it is like to be in the two week wait, to conceive with assistance, to fill out adoption paperwork, to lose a baby, to meet your surrogate, to attend a baby shower while living child-free, to parent after infertility, to choose an anonymous donor.  It can help to create a list of the emotions you feel and then work backwards to see if you can describe them to another person with an analogy.

To add yourself to the list, fill out the submission form with your post url and a one-sentence description of your post.  It will be moved into the main body of this post within 24 hours.  A reminder will be posted at the end of the month to read the list in its entirety, but feel free to bookmark this post and return to it to read the posts as they go up.

INFERTILITY AND LOSS ANALOGIES

1. Stirrup Queens: Infertility is like your brain mentally running a marathon everyday, with all the exhaustion that would come from running 26.2 miles.
2. Hapa Hopes: A recap of a husband and wife conversation about how sex when you know you have infertility is kind of like fishing… in an empty pond.
3. Follow Every Rainbow: I thought baby-making was a direct path, step onto it and off you go, instead I found myself deep in this crazy maze of infertility unsure what would be round every new turn.
4. The Road Less Travelled: Infertility, loss & childlessness is like being left-handed in a world built for right-handed people.
5. Where Love and Chaos Reign: Continuing to battle while all your infertile friends are in the midst of overcoming is like watching them all leave on a trip you are supposed to be on with them.
6. Dwelling on Dreams: RPL is like falling off a train into a snow bank (a dirty one, not a nice fluffy one) over and over again while everyone else arrives safely at the station.
7. Search for Our Silver Lining: Draws the similarities between infertility/loss and destructive storms like tornadoes.
8. Infertile First Mom: The intense physical and emotional nature of Adoption/Loss/Infertility journeys are compared to that of long distance hikers, including thoughts on navigation, use of resources/blogging, and validation of the journey regardless of the final resting place.
9. Bébé Suisse: Having a miscarriage is like screaming silently and alone in the bathroom while the party continues without you.
10. Trying Not to Scream: Driving to the RE one day, my husband started to explain how seeking fertility treatment felt like trying to get your car fixed without knowing what was wrong with it.  I went with it.
11. Bereaved and Blessed: The similarities between my friend’s experience training to run a marathon in October 2007 and not being able to finish (due to the extreme heat that day) and my struggle with secondary infertility and pregnancy loss.
12. The Infertility Voice: A letter written to the genetic child she’ll never know that is as much about grief as it is welcoming the unknown.
13. Ilostaworld: Having your child die is like losing your world – “You could tell me that the dirt I stand on is the same as it was this time last year, and on days like this, I would argue that it isn’t.  It’s treacherous dirt, now.”
14. Survive and Thrive: Infertility is like driving an old, battered car that doesn’t go.
15. Waiting for Little Feet: Here, I recall the days of being the slow kid in gym class. Trying to TTC #1 while watching your friends have not only one child, but sometimes two or three children, feels like getting lapped on the track. They just seem to get further and further ahead, while I’m struggling to get past the finish line for the first time.
16. Finding My New Normal: When your baby dies you gain membership into a very exclusive club, the club that no one wants to join.
17. Marriage 2.0: The adoption wait is like a carousel ride that feels like it’s never going to end.
18. Wild Lilies in the Woods: Infertility treatment is like being stuck in traffic.
19. My Lazy Ovaries: A rambling post describing the peregrinations of our DEIVF versus child free thoughts, culminating with idea that using donor eggs is like baking a cake with one borrowed ingredient.
20. Notes from the Ninth Circle: Saying, “Oh, you’ve got plenty of time left,” doesn’t help someone stuck in a dead-end job, just like it doesn’t help with infertility.
21. Journey to the Finish Line: Infertility is a marathon – surviving one mile at a time.
22. Something Out of Nothing: Navigating infertility is a complex and confusing maze, much like the movie Labyrinth.
23. Something Out of Nothing: Spending money on fertility treatments that might not even work is no different than what some other parents are willing to spend and sacrifice for the dream they have for their child.
24. Serenity in Chaos: In comparing infertility grief with grief over my Dad’s death, I found that IF grief caused invisible cracks and holes in my universe and other people’s well-meaning words or questions “poked and scratched” the invisible cracks and holes and inadvertently made them bigger in some parts.
25. Our Growing Gardunn: Living with RPL is like being on an elevator that screeches to a halt at random stops, forcing you to get out while you desperately want to reach the 40th floor.
26. Outlandish Notions: Choosing to stop pursuing treatments and live childless-by-circumstance is like jumping off the shore of infertility island and seeing where the current washes you up (Note: I wrote this several years ago, and have since had two children).
27. Journey to Somewhere: Trying to conceive vs. rowing: infertility is not a race, but rather a long row with no pre-defined finish line.
28. Smiling Scar: It like coming to a trail head, and being forced to take one trail, always wondering if you can cross over to the other side, but with time the hill between the two trails appears more and more fraught.
29. No Kidding in NZ: Infertility is taking the road less travelled.
30. The Maybe Baby(Babies): On gardening and the choices that need to be made, and how infertility adds an extra weight to those seemingly simple decisions. I have yet to grow a radish on my little balcony.
31. From IF to When: I thought I was done with the dating scene – until I experienced adoption profiling.
32. Semi-Charmed Life: Does it ever go away? No, I don’t think it does.
33. A peek into our journey: Life after infertility and a successful pregnancy is one big mud puddle.
34. Brave IVF Girl: Infertility is like a video game, achievements and all.
35. Baby Smiling In Back Seat: Pregnancy after infertility is like a baseball game in which the pitcher is in the middle of a no-hitter. Along with lots of discussion of jinxes. (Written a couple of months before the pregnancy that resulted in my twins.)
36. A Single Journey: Deciding to stop TTC and pursuing adoption is like the perfect storm, caught somewhere between sunny skies and nasty weather.
37. A Well-Adjusted Pessimist: Just after our diagnosis, I compared infertility to a military deployment. Maybe this post will shed some light on both.
38. Little Chicken Nugget: Infertility and loss is like trying to heal a severed nerve.
39. Livin’ the “Young” Life: Comparing the emotions of infertility to that of running a 1/2 marathon.
40. Maybe Baby and the Adventures of Hub-in-Boots: Compares infertile couples secretly heading for their morning fertility clinic appointments to squirrels hiding nuts, and challenges criticisms of infertility treatment. A later post talks about the holding onto the hope during infertility as a monkey trap.
41. Add yourself to the list.

The collecting of the list each month is just the beginning.  The next step is getting it out there so the posts are read and utilized as a valuable resource for those who wish to understand.

Photo Image: Florida Center for Instructional Technology.

Waiting for Little Feet had a post yesterday about how physically exhausted she is at the end of the day; how prior to infertility she had the energy to workout and go out with friends, and now she drags herself into bed early, too spent to do the things that used to be a given.

Infertility (and loss, the adoption process, surrogacy, learning to live child-free, treatments, etc) is like running a marathon every single day.  Your body isn’t running 26.2 miles, but your brain is.  Dealing with daily life is like a nice mental jog — it will leave you a bit tired but overall refreshed.  Our brains like a workout, hence why people bored at work look for things to occupy themselves.  Dealing with infertility though — with its sprints of what ifs and its uphill trudges and its constant loop of the same emotional terrain like a treadmill — is like running 13.1 miles to work, jogging while at work (or whatever your daily life routine is), and then running 13.1 miles home.  Every day.

Hence why you’re exhausted.

Infertility isn’t unique — I think any crisis does this — but it’s long-term.  You’re dealing with it day-after-day (and in some cases, year-after-year).  And you’re on-guard; you’re alert — even when you’re not alert, you’re alert.  You are paying attention to every twinge or every time the phone rings or every date on the calendar.

Some people can compartmentalize and set infertility aside for a few hours.  And sometimes setting infertility aside happens inadvertently because you’re ensconced in dealing with something else.  Or you engage in daily meditation to cope (seriously, the reason why meditation works is that you’re allowing your brain to stop running for an hour.  Maybe it’s only walking or maybe it’s resting back in a hammock before it needs to get up again, but at least it isn’t running).

But for many people, infertility is like having your brain running for every moment that you’re awake.  And it’s exhausting.

A long time ago, back when Friendster was a hip place to hang out online (trust me, it was.  All the cool kids were there.  Ignore anything else you may have heard about Friendster), Josh made a joke about a doppelganger site called “Not Your Friendster” for those times when you not so subtly want to tell someone that you don’t like them.  He imagined it being most people’s homepage on their computer, this troll-like spot that people couldn’t help but look at even though it upset them no end and caused a considerable amount of stress.  In this scenario, Josh would talk about the poor office worker walking past all the cubicles, his office mates sticking their heads out to look at him sympathetically as he did the death march down the hallway to boot up his computer and see what they had already seen on Not Your Friendster that morning… that Matt hates Jeff.

It was a joke because it was so over-the-top insane.  Who the hell would want to publicly tell people that they disliked someone?

It turns out that people do.

Mashable had a story yesterday about a new app called EnemyGraph that allows you to add your “enemies” on Facebook. (Isn’t enemy a strong word?  I mean, there are people I dislike, but in that dislike, I ignore them.  Enemy connotes an active, passionate dislike that uses your attention.  I don’t know if it’s exactly the same thing as Facebook using “friend”)  Those enemies may be things (crickets), organizations (Westboro Baptist Church) or other people on Facebook.

I can think of a few examples where it would be useful to know what someone dislikes.  I, for instance, might put down perfume.  And then you would know, if you were looking to get me a birthday present, that perfume wasn’t the way to go.  Of course, we could also go the more positive route and look at things I do like and choose something off of that list, but it’s also good to know sometimes what to avoid.

But beyond that, how would it be helpful to list people you dislike?  Sure, there are people I dislike in this world, and some are even on Facebook, but I think about our poor office worker — Jeff — and his walk towards his computer with everyone staring at him.  The world knowing that Matt hates Jeff.  So Jeff not only gets to feel the emotions of having a bad relationship with Matt, but he also gets the humiliation from everyone else observing his bad relationship with Matt.  I can’t think of any example — except perhaps not inviting that person into the threesome you’re proposing — where it would be helpful to know who other people dislike.  Person A’s feelings about Person B don’t change my feelings about Person B if I consider Person B my friend.

Have you ever found yourself written about on a troll site?  I have.  It’s a fairly crappy experience.  I once found a blog that talked about how my kumbaya-ness made her sick.  She had several posts in a row mocking me.  Later on, she asked to be added to the blogroll, and she’s still on there now.  It was difficult to swallow hard and add her, but I’ve always seen the inclusion of people on the blogroll as community-driven, not my individual decision (okay, I had to do more than just swallow hard.  I had to turn to Josh, call this woman a bunch of names in the privacy of my own home, and then add her).  But my point is that she gave me every opportunity to read her thoughts about me.  She wrote them on her blog and then sent her blog to me to ask to be included on my blogroll.  She wanted me to read them, and I have to wonder about people like that.

On a side note, more recently, I had someone write something rude about me online in a space where she knew I would read it.  I read it and felt awful, but moreover, it was an interesting moment because I have deleted exactly one non-SPAM comment from my blog ever.  It was from an anonymous commenter who expressed glee over this person’s loss when I wrote about this blogger in a Friday Blog Roundup.  When I saw the comment about her left on my post, I jumped on the computer and quickly deleted it because I was so afraid that this blogger, already in a sensitive space, would see it and it would damage her further.  To this day, she has no idea that I saved her from feeling like crap.  So it was even more interesting for me to see that contrast — I tried to save her from ever feeling like crap by being directly discussed on the Internet, and she purposefully tried to make me feel like crap by just being honest in her thoughts of me.  While I was reading this Mashable article, I considered emailing it to her with a note about how she might find it useful.

Just to be clear: I am not a saint.  I have inadvertently hurt people’s feelings too.  We all have.  But there is a difference between — let’s say — not inviting someone to a party that they find out about (inadvertent hurt feelings) and adding that person’s name to EnemyGraph (purposefully hurt feelings).

Because the reality is that it’s not just troll sites or mean bloggers who write crappy things about other people online that the subject can end up seeing.  We just talked about Jason Russell encountering blog posts about him this week.  Anything you put on the Web about another person, regardless of how well-hidden you think it is, has the potential to be found by the person you are speaking about.  Even if you write anonymously.  Even if you don’t link to the other person.  Even if you misspell their name so it isn’t Googleable.  Even with all of those “evens” there is a chance.  It helps me to look at my posts before I hit publish keeping that in mind: how would that person feel if they found it?

Sometimes, that person is going to feel crappy.  No two ways about it.  Aliza Shvarts is an example that comes to mind.  I wrote about her actions, and I own that.  I try not to name people — even when I am being careful and discussing the actions and not the person herself (after all, I don’t know Aliza Shvarts.  For all I know, she is a lovely woman) — mostly because I don’t want the focus to be person.  I want the focus to be the actions.  So whenever possible, I don’t name the person (see, like the bloggers above whose actions were just discussed, but you most likely don’t know who they are so they can save face.  If you do know who they are, I would appreciate you not naming them in the comment section).

This is why EnemyGraph is so bizarre to me: you’re doing the exact opposite — not giving any context or discussing actions but instead naming the person, organization, or thing without giving the reason for what bothers you.

How would you feel if you saw your name on someone else’s EnemyGraph?  What if you saw your friend discussing a third person you know (and like) in that manner?  Would you do anything?  Would you simply shrug and say, “to each their own”?

The topic of friendship and the way we interact with one another has been on my mind as of late because I’m reading MWF Seeking BFF.  More thoughts on the more pleasant side of humans interacting when I finish it and collect all the ideas I’ve been marking in the margins.

Updated at the Bottom

I noticed a discrepancy on the restaurant bill after my credit card had been charged and the slip signed.  The owner came over and asked if I could be reimbursed with cash in order to not have to pay the fee for an additional transaction.  No problem; in fact, it would help me because I had little cash in my wallet and it would save me the trip to the bank.  I was owed $8.50, and the waiter returned with $8 in cash and wished me a nice day.

I didn’t say anything because (1) we frequent this restaurant a lot and I wanted to keep the atmosphere comfortable and (2) I am sometimes a pussy when it comes to these things.

I walked out to the car talking to myself: It’s just 50 cents, not a big deal.  But it was the restaurant’s mistake, and it cost me 50 cents whereas they gained 50 cents by messing up.  I wonder why he rounded down instead of up.  For the love, Melissa, you need to let this go.  It was just 50 cents.  But if I lost 50 cents every day for a year, it would add up to $182.50.  That’s a lot of money.  Enough to buy a Kindle (I think).  But I didn’t lose $182.50, I lost 50 cents.  It’s 50-fucking-cents!

Welcome to my internal monologue.

*******

I fell into a conversation with a woman on the Metro.  She had a baby who was sleeping in his stroller.  She was a stay-at-home mum, not working in her career field for the moment.  Her husband had fully supported this change months earlier, but he had grown resentful when her stay-at-home motherhood didn’t match what he envisioned.  He was angry every time she dropped off the child with her mother so she could attend an exercise class and he was pissed the times when he came home and dinner wasn’t made.

“He said that he asks so little of me, I should be able to have dinner made.”

But there is not a marriage or partnership in the world where the person doesn’t ask an enormous amount from the other person.  Is loyalty a small thing to ask for?  Constant support?  A promise to make decisions together?  To love each other?  To never break your vows?

I don’t ask that from many people.  In fact, I don’t ask that from anyone other than Josh because they’re all enormous things to ask for.  When this husband said that he didn’t ask for a lot from this woman, I’m not sure he was seeing just how much he was asking of her; that we all ask of our partner if we have one.  Making meals?  Doing stuff with the baby?  Those are small things.  It would be like asking someone for $20,000.32 and focusing on the 32 cents.  She gives him the $20,000 daily by being a loyal partner.  By loving him.  By not breaking her vows (yes, I am making a lot of assumptions about their marriage).  All that he can claim he’s not getting is the 32 cents.

*******

My second favourite song in A New Brain is “Change” (my favourite is “And They’re Off” — how can you not cry when he switches to “and he’s off!”).  The homeless woman sings:

People walk by me with glee.
I am what they’ll never be.
I don’t ask you to tip your hat.
I don’t ask that you notice what I’m wearing.
I could care less for things like that.
All I’m asking for is change!

The change, of course, that she’s asking for is both the monetary kind as well as a change in her life.  The smallest thing — pennies — and the largest thing — a different existence.

Most people don’t hold their change that tightly.  We drop it in tip cups, we round up to the nearest dollar (except for that restaurant!), we toss it into fountains and make wishes.  The character points out how little she is asking for — just the spare change that is jingling around in your pocket, probably annoying you due to its weight.

I wonder why we care enough about people to passionately argue about political ideas, to get involved in that manner, but then when it comes to actual people, we give them what we don’t personally consider of high worth.  The woman doesn’t ask for dollars, knowing probably that most will balk at hearing that word.  She asks for change, something she knows people will give her because they don’t value it.  If you really dissect this, the way we show care is to give someone something we don’t value?  Isn’t that bizarre, when you think about in those terms?

But that’s not the point.

Who sets that line of worth; where change is fine to pass along to another person, but a dollar is the line?  There are plenty of individuals who will give another person a ten-dollar bill without a second thought when they see someone in need, but the vast majority of people give coins, change, the money that doesn’t equal up to a dollar.

I think nothing of giving away my spare change, but when it’s taken from me in the case of the restaurant, I can fixate on that exact same 50 cents that I would have given someone freely, believing that it cost me close to nothing, even if I added up that I give up $182.50 over the course of a year if I do that every day.

I have plenty of invisible lines of worth.  I’m trying to figure out why I set them at a certain level; whether it’s possible to erase them.

*******

Those invisible lines of worth pop up in various places.  With the woman on the Metro, her husband devalued the most sacred parts of a partnership and focused only on valuing the minutiae of daily tasks.  With the homeless, it’s apparently the difference between 99 cents and a dollar.  I’ve heard people devalue their friendships because they didn’t think they had enough of them or devalue their blog because it doesn’t cross the threshold of an invisible value line for readership.

Isn’t the $20,000 of blogging the peace of heart that comes from finding the words to explain how you feel; even if no one reads those words, as they often don’t in my case because I only publish half the posts I write.  Isn’t it that one good friend you would have never met otherwise if not for your blog?  Isn’t it the day when you felt so alone and disconnected in the face-to-face world, but five people confirmed your thoughts in the blogging world and it was what made the difference?  Isn’t everything else that may or may not come with blogging the 32 cents?

It’s interesting to look at all the spaces in life where we draw these invisible lines of worth and devalue everything that falls underneath it.  I know I’ve done it before in the number of friends I have or in the house I have.  I’m just not sure why I do it, especially once I recognize that I’m doing it.

*******

So which is it?  Should the change be the focus or should it be the point where we let go?  Should I care if the restaurant keeps 50 cents or should I let it go, knowing that I’ve had many delicious meals there and would miss it terribly if it closed.  Does it have to be an either/or?

If we’re getting the major things in a marriage — unconditional love, emotional support, someone who always has our back when the rest of the world is kicking us down — should we allow the spare change of a relationship (the dishes left in the sink or the meals not made) to determine its worth?

And how can we both look at change as something to toss aside and hold up the same word in such high regard when it comes to bettering ourselves?

Update:

Driving home from yoga, I thought of one more place where I do this.  I’ve lost 14 pounds in the last few two months… and I still keep reminding myself that regardless of that, I still have more to lose.  I keep focusing on the 32 cents — the number on the scale — instead of the $20,000 which is the fact that I’ve taken control of my completely out-of-control eating.  The number on the scale is fairly meaningless, especially without the control.  I could get myself down to the magical invisible line, but without the control, I’ll never maintain it.  So the control is the more important thing, but I never congratulate myself on that.  I just remind myself over and over again that I have weight I need to lose, that I’m carrying too many pounds on this frame.