I am having a hard time starting this post, not just because my thoughts are so jumbled that it makes it difficult to find words, but because this post feels a lot like the high dive on Memorial Day. Every year, on the first day that I went to the pool for the summer, I had to march off the high dive or I would be immobilized by it for the rest of the season. I didn’t need to ever go off the high dive again for the remainder of the summer but I knew that if I didn’t force myself to jump the first day, I would spend each day after staring at the board and worrying about the board and thinking about the board.

And now that I know that she reads my blog, I feel this need to write tonight–not just to place closure on the earlier post–but because if I didn’t, I would become self-conscious overnight. It’s not that I blog everything in my world, but I don’t have many walls and I was scared that I would start building them if I considered who was reading. And I never want to have walls. I never want to have my arms up, holding people at bay.

I cried. A lot. It was amazing to sit across from her again. She looked so much like she did 14 years ago. She is very beautiful–smart and matter-of-fact. I didn’t really walk away with an answer. I was promised that it was none of the reasons I’ve believed for the last 14 years. At this point, I don’t really know if I needed an answer. I did the work on my own; came to my own space again of feeling comfortable with who I am. I wasn’t seeing her again because I wanted her to feel guilty that I was so upset–I truly hope that she didn’t walk away from tonight with a heavier burden. I can’t deny that it was very hard to lose her friendship, but my intention is not to wrangle it back and then place the weight squarely in her arms to carry. I simply wanted to revisit my past. To sit with someone who knows this piece of me that no one else knows.

I was worried that I would get oral diarrhea tonight, tell her about the blog. But early on in the conversation, she let me know that she had read the entire thing. From start to finish, or in actuality, from recent to past. This happens, of course, a lot. A person I never knew was reading admits that they know all about the turkey cutlet or the pee bucket. It’s my choice to put it out there; to write about my life. But it is a strange playing field when someone knows these pieces of your life and you know nothing of theirs.

And then she let me know that long before I started the blog, for the past 14 years, she has kept up with my life. Through mutual friends and the local grapevine and news here and there. She has known all of the major events that have played out over the past 14 years. And on one hand, isn’t it the story we all want? That the person was close the entire time, just standing in the wings, silently supporting us. Isn’t that why we believe in life after death–that the person never truly leaves us and somehow still knows what is happening as our life continues to play out. And at the same time, there is a terrible bittersweetness to it. To know that she was so close for so long and didn’t step forward. I am not sure if she truly knows everything that happened, but as she said it, I had this film on fast forward going through my head of all the times I have needed her for the past 14 years and wondered how many of the scenes she already knew.

It isn’t really fair–it isn’t her job to step forward and catch me. There were others who were there when she was not. Life has a way of doing that, of filling new people into the gaping spaces. But still, it makes my life feel a little like a Where is Waldo scene and if I look closely at the commotion, I’ll find her in the background. And it both makes me feel comforted and even more distant.

I existed today on a diet of Tums and Tylenol and while I still have a headache, there is a buzzing that has stilled. Perhaps I needed one last big cry to serve as my closure. But seeing her has wiped off a film that rested over how I viewed myself for years after the break-up. Everything seems neater, shinier, organized; as if I have taken back whatever I left behind. And now we can move ahead.

I’ve written this before reading the comments on the last post. But I want to thank you for them. She mentioned them when she sat down and knowing that all of you were out there helped more than the Tums and there is a story that I will tell tomorrow about my cousin when my head is less fuzzy. Right now, I need to go cuddle with Josh. To kiss the twins. Before I left, I asked myself if it was worth it to go out and miss tuck-in. I never miss tuck-in. But it was. Getting that closure was worth what I missed.

Thank you–J–for answering the email; for sitting down tonight.

As you are reading this, I am sitting in a cafe with someone who I haven’t spoken to in over 12 years (okay, perhaps you are reading it after the fact but regardless, I wrote this right before I left for the afternoon/evening). We broke off our friendship about 14 years ago, around this time of year. For the first six or seven years after we ended our friendship, I wrote her letters. I sent her emails and left messages on her answering machine. I passed messages through mutual friends and her sister. She never once responded. For the first few years, I tried every few weeks and then it became every few months and finally, I would let a year or so pass between tries. I haven’t written her since 2002. Josh and I were in the middle of our first round of trying.

Because isn’t that when you write those sorts of notes? When you’re in an emotionally fragile space so you return to whatever the largest hurt has been up until that point and try to fix that since you can’t fix the thing in front of you. I tried to connect with her after boyfriend break-ups, when I was considering leaving graduate school, when I miscarried. Something would be unfixable in front of me and I would return to this large broken relationship and pick at it again because it always seemed like it should be repairable. It has been this huge pile of shards in the middle of my life and I can’t help but go back and kick the pile around a bit to figure out how it got broken in the first place.

Because I still don’t understand.

I write this knowing full well that she will possibly read this. That people who knew us in the past are probably reading this. I can say without hesitation that it still hurts 14 years later. That it was worse than any break-up with a boy. She was my best friend from age 12 until age 20.

My experience has been that a break-up with a friend is so much worse than a break-up with a boy.

When we stopped speaking, she took with her the sole space I had to say anything. Of course I found it again in other people, but you know that safe space where you can lay your words? She owned that space. And she took it. So whenever I went through something difficult after that point–a break-up, leaving grad school, a miscarriage–I thought about that space in physical terms. I wanted to just rest inside for a moment; feel protected, feel like I could vent. And she took that with her.

There was no fight, no sense that things were wrong. One morning I woke up and was getting ready for class. She was sitting in the living room, speaking with a mutual friend of ours who was going to walk with me to the campus. We lived together back then; we shared a room. I came into the living room half in a shirt that I could not get on properly. She stood up and helped me get my head through the proper hole and then turned as if she were speaking to an invisible camera.

Real World had just started to air and we often pretended that we were in the Confessional Room, staring at a camera. She said, “when I moved into the house, I didn’t realize that I was going to have to dress one of my roommates.”

We both started laughing and I remember hugging her tightly, our heads pressed together while we both spoke to our mutual friend. And I remember the other person saying, “you two are so lucky that you have each other. I wish I had a friendship like that.” And my friend agreed, “we are so lucky.”

And then I came home from classes and she told me that she was going to move and that she wanted to end our friendship.

So you can understand why I kick the shards from time to time.

I’m sure she has a very different memory of that day–after all, she knew what she was going to say when I got home. I remember her telling me in the few minutes I had between classes and play rehearsal. I grabbed my things and ran to the theater, crying all the way down Langdon Street and hiding in the back of the theater whenever I wasn’t needed on stage. I couldn’t tell anyone what was wrong. She literally took my word space that night; the receptacle where I could say anything.

We connected via Facebook a few weeks ago and exchanged emails for the first time in 12 years. There was no explanation of why now and not then. Six years ago, she didn’t return my notes. Now she was setting up a coffee date. Of course I am curious–even 14 years later, I want an explanation. I may not get one or it may not be satisfying or understandable. My mother asked why I couldn’t just speak to her over the phone; why I needed to use my evening and meet her at the cafe. It is not just so she could see my face as we spoke but because I want to visit that space where I placed all of my words so many years ago. Revisit them. She will never understand how important she was to me because it’s just not the sort of thing you can sum up with words and explain the enormity of a person’s impact on your life.

Lindsay asked if I thought it was a good idea to meet. What if her reason was something terrible, she asked, playing Devil’s Advocate. And it’s true–she could tell me tonight that she left because I’m a horrible person. Because I made her uncomfortable or grated on her. The reality is that I’ve already mourned so I’m sure I can hear whatever reason she wants to give. After Lindsay and I hung up the phone, I considered one last thing–something that would shatter me if she said it tonight. That perhaps, these 14 years, as I have been mourning and missing her; wondering how she is and wishing her well from afar, that she hasn’t considered me at all. That my emails were unanswered because I’m inconsequential in her world. The possibility of that would have been the reason to stay home.

This is the seventeenth installment of Barren Advice. You can ask questions that are fertility or non-fertility related.

Barren Advice is posted each Tuesday-ish. If you have your own question for Barren Advice, click here to learn how to submit. Please weigh in with your own thoughts in the comment section and indicate which question you’re addressing if there are multiple questions in the post.

Dear Mel:

How do I get started in the online infertility community? I’m finding that my friends and family just don’t seem to get what I’m going through no matter how hard they try and the local support group doesn’t meet again until after the holidays. Reading your blog and others like it has really kept me afloat over the last few weeks. How do I make “blog friends” and give/receive support? Should I just start leaving comments and telling people how much better they’ve made me feel? I really don’t know the first thing about blog etiquette and I don’t want to offend anyone.

—Lucie B.

This is one of those answers that spans from “how do you get started” to “how do you build traffic”–and my thoughts reveal my own personal philosophy of blogging. Hit a different blog writer and you’ll probably get a different path for building readership. The point is that there is no wrong way to blog…

Well…yes…actually there is. But we’ll get to that in a moment.

Let’s start at the beginning. It is entirely possible to participate in the community sans blog, but it makes it much easier to receive the support you wish to receive with one. You can set up a free blog through Blogger or WordPress (these are the two most popular, though there are other sites you can use too). Think through your needs before you begin so you don’t need to move your blog later from one site to another.

If you want ads you’ll need to use Blogger (or self-host). If you want to password-protect certain entries, you’ll need WordPress. Blogger can make an entire blog invite-only and has many lovely gadgets. WordPress has more flexibility with templates (which isn’t an issue if you know HTML, but is an issue if you don’t want the headache of designing your own site). Think through scenarios such as who you want reading your blog and who you don’t want reading your blog. And then choose a platform that will support the blog you wish to have.

Now that you have a blog, you need to write in it. Some people recommend writing three or four entries before posting the first one and then releasing one at a time to give you a week or so to ease into writing a blog. Personally, I just started with the first post and when I had something to say again, I posted again. The reason for banking a few posts at first is that some people write their first post and then get this deer-in-headlights feeling and don’t know what to say next. Having the posts banked gives you a little time to make sure that you have the desire to keep writing before you send that blog out there into the world.

Before we get to sending your blog into the world, let’s talk about content. Blog gurus always talk about how you need to have great content. But what the hell does that mean? Yes, intellectually I knew that I needed a great set of short stories to get into my MFA program, but how could I judge if they were “great” or not. And if I didn’t get in, did it mean that my stories weren’t “great” or did it mean that there were too many people and too few slots? Was everyone who got in a great writer?

Like my MFA program, you’re going to find a lot of great people who simply aren’t read. And writers who have a huge readership even though they are boring beyond belief. You’ll find people who write the most heartfelt post and receive one comment and others who write “do you like gum?” and receive 657 responses within the first ten minutes. Yes, great blog posts tend to attract readers, but there are also too many great posts out there without comments.

That’s why I say feh to focusing on worrying about great content. You’re too close to your own writing to judge “great” and sometimes the most mundane subject matter can become a great post. When I’m reading, I want to see things that speak to my heart. That connect with me on an emotional level or teach me something new or make me see the world in a different way. I really want to read a blog where the person writes as themselves and not as they think others want to read. One of my favourite blogs often posts menus for the week and arguments with her husband. And while that doesn’t sound like the most fascinating subject matter, it is because you can tell instantly that she is simply laying down her life for the world to see. And that’s what I look for in a blog: truth, emotion, view point.

So write what interests you. If others read it, fantastic. But it will never be a waste of time if it is a record of your world and contains subject matter that interests you. I always compare it to the dating scene. If you go do an activity that you enjoy and you meet someone there, all the better. But at least you have the activity in and of itself. For instance, I’m really not into bars and the nights I went out to meet people at a bar event felt like a huge waste. If I met someone, it was fine. But if I didn’t meet anyone, I felt like I had wasted two hours of my life (and it was deceptive and people got a little confused on the first date when I mentioned that I didn’t like bars and that’s where they met me). On the other hand, I’m much more into cafes and reading. If I went to the cafe, at least I had a great cup of coffee even if I didn’t meet anyone. This is how I feel about blog writing as well. Write what you like: the readership will follow.

Getting comments and having a readership IS part of blogs. If not, you would write your journal at home and keep it to yourself. It’s hard to share your heart with the world and not receive feedback, a head nod, or comfort in return. Here are my thoughts on readership: it is better to have a few dedicated readers than a lot of drive-by readers. Drive-by readers are those who click over once and glance at your blog and click away. Social media sites and links from other blogs bring you a lot of drive-by traffic. Sometimes, if you have content that speaks to them, they stick around. But if not, they simply surf to the next blog out there.

The ones I read religiously are the ones who have built a relationship with me (or vice versa). I subscribe to them in Google Reader and even if I don’t comment on every post, I read every post. The way we built that relationship is I commented on their blog or they commented on mine. Not just once, but many times to let the other person know that they’re reading. Sometimes we email off-blog too and build the friendship that way. Sometimes we even meet face-to-face if we’re going to be visiting each other’s cities.

The point is that I treat the comment
section as I would a cafe table. When I want to make a friend in the face-to-face world, I listen to what they’re saying, ask questions, and make comments on their end of the conversation. I do the same with a blog with few exceptions. I read the post and comment on their thoughts. I ask a question sometimes. I give my opinion if they ask for it (and…um…I sometimes give my opinion when they don’t ask for it). The point is that there is a wrong way to comment and it’s to leave a note that is entirely about you in someone else’s comment box.

What do I mean by this? Well, here’s a sample conversation:

Anne: I had the worst day at work today.
Me: What happened?
Anne: I messed up and got yelled at and I felt like an idiot.
Me: That sucks! I’m so sorry.
Anne: It did. I ended up going out to dinner because I couldn’t handle trying a new recipe after messing up everything at work.
Me: Oh–speaking of restaurants, did you see the new one that opened up by my house? We have to go there some time…

See, there’s a flow. Anne says something and I react to it. And the whole conversation is not solely about Anne, but there is a time to change the topic and there is a time to stay on the same one and let the person finish the vent.

Most comments I see follow this type of give-and-take. The person will acknowledge what is written and give sympathy or congratulations. They may add to the story with something from their world or say what they would have done faced with the same situation. All that is fine. What I’ve also seen is people who leave a comment solely to draw attention to themselves and try to get the person to read their site. For example:

That’s a great story! You should stop by my blog: http://stirrup-queens.blogspot.com and see what I’m writing about if you get a chance.

The difference with the comment above is that it’s the equivalent to plopping down across from someone and cheerfully saying, “I really want friends but I don’t want to BE a friend. I mean, I’ll be there for you after you’ve already proven that you’ll be there for me. But let’s establish you supporting me and then we’ll talk what I’ll do for you.”

Which is a little off-putting.

The reality is that there are plenty of blogs that I read and comment on and I don’t think the person reads me. And that’s okay. It’s not always a two-way street. I’m going to keep reading them and supporting them even if I’m not getting that friendship back because I enjoy their blog and I learn from it and it expands my world. But the majority of the time, the way people build readership is to get out there and thoughtfully comment and usually people follow them back to their blog without needing to be led.

The other thing is to get involved in blog projects. There’s NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month)–sign up and you’ll meet other people who are trying it too. There was just the Blog Cross-Pollination Project and next week kicks off the 2008 list for the Creme de la Creme (this is a link to the 2007 one). Every month you can join IComLeavWe (International Comment Leaving Week). There are Perfect Moment Mondays. All sorts of blog projects that get you linked to and therefore read (remember that drive-by traffic? Some of it will stick around if you nurture it with content and returned comments).

Insofar as etiquette: the same rules that guide the face-to-face world also (should) guide the Internet. Anyone can comment on a blog–you don’t need to wait to be invited–but keep the comments apropos of the post. Don’t speak about another blogger or a person in your face-to-face world unless you’re prepared to have them read it. Be kind. Think about what you would want to hear–no one likes to have their feelings negated–and it’s always fine to click away without leaving a comment if you have nothing nice to say.

So get out there and write. But don’t forget to read and comment. And know that it takes time to build readership and to gather that support. But it is well worth the wait and care you need to extend in order to receive it in return.

No really, the beauty of a blog advice column is that you get to weigh in with your two cents too. Let the questioner know if you support the advice, add to the response, or dispute it completely.

Leave a comment in the reaction box below–only keep in mind that conflicting advice is embraced and rudeness is not. Want to ask your own question? Click here to see what you need to send in order to be included in a future Tuesday’s installment of Barren Advice.

This is a guest post on my blog courtesy of the Great Blog Cross-Pollination. The point is to introduce you to a new blogger without the reader leaving the comfort of their familiar blog reading path. It’s also a game where you need to guess the mystery writer and by guessing correctly, you’ll find MY post (which is posted on her blog). Write your guess in the comment section below and then click on the “reveal” link at the bottom of the post to find my partner.

Life is hard at times. Maybe not for all people, but I would hazard a guess there is always some hard times for most. Sure, there are always some people who are blessed with that “perfect” life, never to know hardship. Always making the choice which ends up the best choice for them. But then again, we never know the truth about anyone when just looking in. Maybe even more people experience heartache than we think.

But without heartache, would we really be able to see the good in our lives? Is the heartache actually “good” for us in some way?

I have made a lot of stupid decisions in my life. A lot. Hell, I’ve made stupid decisions very recently. I’ve also had bad things just happen to me. Do I wish I didn’t have to go through all of the bad? Sure. But the big question is, do I ~regret~ it? Any of it? I’m going to have to answer with a definitive “no”.

All of the crap I’ve been through has made me the person I am today. And I like that person I am. But even more so, I know what I can get through. I know that no matter what happens, I’m going to persevere. Sure, when things go bad, I’m all about dwelling on how bad it is. But one thing I won’t do, hell, I can’t do, is allow it to control my life. Shitty things happen. But even with the shittiest of things, something good will happen later. Life if what you make it. I don’t want to use any stupid cliché like “make lemons out of lemonade,” because I personally believe some situations don’t call for a nice big glass of lemonade at the end (and I don’t even like lemonade so screw that). BUT … things can and will get better if you don’t succumb to the bad. The future will always have something to behold, something to make you smile again.

I wanted to take a few examples from my own life and explain how even the crappiest of situations is something I don’t regret.

The first thing is one time in my past, 12 years ago to be exact, I was a drug addict. It happened quickly and it took even me by surprise, but it’s something that happened. I do want to take a moment to explain how it’s not something I’m proud of, in fact, it is quite embarrassing, but I will own up to all of my actions. I know there are a lot of people who may judge me and that’s just the chance I have to take. But I can’t hide anything in my life. It’s part of me and if I’m judged poorly, so be it.

I was the good student in high school and college. I graduated at the top of my high school class and won an academic scholarship to college. I completed college with a Bachelor’s of Science degree, do you can understand I’m not just simply stupid. I was also a party girl who would try anything once. The problem was, after college, that one time turned into a full blown physical addiction. I lost everything. My apartment. All my belongings. All for the drug. I OD’d many times, in fact, I’m surprised I made it out alive. I hit bottom in October of 1996. I had nothing. Nothing. But by December I had a good job and by January 1997, I had my own place and well on my way to becoming the person I am today.

The second is the infertility I suffered. It’s not in the same ballpark as many of you, but it was my personal journey through IF hell. I went through medicated cycles. Multiple surgeries. IUIs. IVF. FET. I ended up being blessed with multiple children. I only spent 39 cycles trying to conceive, so I definitely cannot speak for those who are still trying or whom have decided to live child free. All I can pull from is my own experiences.

So what is my point? Was being an drug addict good? What going through infertility a fucking great time? NO. They both sucked and I never want to go through it again. But, what it did teach me was I can make it past the pain. With the drug addiction, I realized I can hit bottom and completely rebuild my life. Now, something like losing my job just doesn’t scare me as bad as it may have had I not gone through this. With infertility, it’s caused me to really take stock in what I do have. I am sure I look at my children with a different view than those who didn’t have to fight tooth and nail for them. If I ended up without children, maybe I would look at other things in my life, my husband, family, friends that I wouldn’t of realized their full potential.

All I am saying is life is what you make it. You can accept the shit that happens and let it wear you down. Or you can live it, although shitty, but know somewhere inside you that there will be something to gain from the experience. What will you choose? It’s all up to you.

children mentioned…

I am participating again in Perfect Moment Monday. Click over for the full list of participants.

My perfect moment came this past Sunday when the twins saw their first true film: The Little Mermaid. Yes, we had to skip over the storm scene, the shark scene, anything with the eels or Ursula, and a few times when King Triton yelled at Ariel, but we made it all the way to the closing credits and they even bopped around during the reprise of “Under the Sea.”

There was a moment when I was watching their faces instead of watching the film and their mouths were slightly ajar and it felt like we had arrived at some milestone. There was this profound relief at watching them connect with this story. And I loved it when the ChickieNob started sobbing and said, “I’ll never get to be a mermaid when I grow up because I can’t live in the sea.” Not loving that her heart was breaking, but that her imagination was so intense that she could bring herself to tears with that thought.

We’ve tried a bunch of films and we’ve never made it through one. I was just so happy to make it all the way through this one.