I try not to spend much time blogging about blogging. But sometimes I have too. I am blessed with many wonderful readers, regular comment makers, and dedicated followers. It's one of the reasons why I still blog every day. I always try to make time to write, which means that I always try to stay alert to my world so that I'll have something to say. Joe will often be with me when something happens and joke 'well tomorrow's blog is written'. It's now a part of our lives.
But only a part.
Some readers become a little angry or upset when, though other means, they hear of something that has gone on in my life that I haven't written about on the blog. They accuse me of inauthenticity. I find this accusation odd. I do realize that I have a kind of 'social contract' with my readers. But I have never thought that that contact extended into areas of my life which I would like to be kept private.
Once when giving a lecture I mentioned how odd I find it that total strangers will ask me for my 'diagnosis' or
for a 'health status report'. Like since my disability is up for public view, my medical records should be available, hanging on a clipboard on the back of my wheelchair. Um. No. Um. Private. There are things that you may wish to know but that wish does not compel me to divulge. That's not the way it works. So, after I gave that lecture, two guys came up to me and said, 'So why are you in the wheelchair anyways, what have the doctors said.' I was polite because my only other option at that moment was extreme vulgarity wrapped up in rudeness. I chose not to go down that path. Not so much for them, but it take me longer and longer to repair myself after one of those bouts.
So, yes, I hinted at it yesterday. Something is going on in my life that is causing immense sadness, anxiety and despair. I don't choose to write about it for two reasons, first and foremost, I don't want to, second and even more importantly, it involves others and I have no wish to share private information about others here. So I don't.
I have long believed that people with disabilities lives are too public, much too public. That information is to easily and freely shared between people between service providers, at meetings, over coffee. We come to believe we need information about someone to serve them when in fact much of the information we have only serves to feed our curiosity and never enters our head when providing care. We need to learn to practice the same boundaries we say that they don't have.
So, to those who've asked, over email or in person, thanks for your concern, but this is something I'm holding in my heart. There's little room in there for a crowd.