Effortless Effervescence

Good Lord, it’s been three weeks since I last blogged. Considering that I used to average 3 posts a DAY at the height of my bloggeer,* a three-week hiatus when my computer is in working order and I’m not laying on the side of a mountain buried under mud and sticks is just… freakish. I’ve been wondering what this silence means. It certainly doesn’t mean that I don’t have anything to say - my mind is still crunching away on all matters blogellectual** - motherhood, theology, politics, what’s happening in Season Six of Grey’s. And it certainly doesn’t mean I don’t want to share these thoughts with others. Rather, I think it has something to do with a little voice inside my head saying, “Emily, nobody CARES.”***

Let me tell you about Emily the Blogger, circa 2005/06/07. I was a “pissa.” I used to say that some people loved me, and some people found me overwhelming - and it’s true! Although my writing was oftentimes irrelevant, boring, or downright offensive, it was just as often funny and touching and insightful and controversial. My blog was personal - in both topic and tone - and it didn’t hedge any bets. Of course I wanted positive feedback, in the form of glowingly complimentary comments and a growing readership, but I also wasn’t afraid to lose readers because I was honest. I was well aware that you can’t please everyone even part of the time, so I didn’t try. I just liked to write, and I believed in what I had to say.

Why is it, then, that as I’ve transitioned to blogging publicly, I’ve developed this peculiar performance anxiety? Perhaps it’s the loss of anonymity, and the pressure I’ve put on myself to be more than just-another-gal-with-a-blog. I mean, I have Big Dreams for my website; I hope to launch a freelance art/design/copywriting/editing business later this year, so I’m aware of how aware I need to be of my online image and “brand.” I know (most of) the rules for becoming a successful blogger. I’ve done lots of research (okay, I’ve skimmed a couple of online articles) on using one’s blog to create an online following and leveraging that following into the coveted Golden Carrot that almost every wannabewriter is chasing: The Mythical and Magical Will-Make-All-Your-Dreams-Come-True Book Deal. (Also chased and coveted, as a means to an end: The Mythical and Magical Will-Get-You-A-Book-Deal-And-Make-All-Your-Dreams-Come-True Agent.)

And maybe that’s the problem. In the same way that every attempt I make to finish my Great American Novel or my Brilliantly Poetic and Touching Memoir swiftly chokes to death on the noxious fumes of fear and self-doubt, perhaps approaching my bloggeer with these same High Hopes is setting me up for failure. I’m so much more timid than I used to be. In my blogging heyday, I didn’t issue disclaimers with every post; I said what I meant to say, and if I hurt someone’s feelings, I apologized and left it at that. Or, I DIDN’T apologize, if I thought that what I said was valid and not-TOO-terribly-bitchy. I didn’t try to be all things to all readers, and at the same time I let my focus wander. If I wanted to write about something that tickled my fancy, never did I consider whether it would tickle the fancy of my “target demographic.” I just wrote.

This messy, take-no-prisoners approach did not win me blogging awards or a cult following. (I really couldn’t, since my blog was friends-only… but still, it’s not like I had the whole internet beating my door down.) In fact, I managed to anger and alienate more than a few people I ran into - a handful of whom I considered actual friends. That hurt, as you might expect, and it’s likely the number-one reason I don’t approach blogging the way I used to, as a means of expressing myself and making new friends. I don’t like drama, and I’ve worked hard to eliminate it from my life; but in doing so, it seems, I’ve eliminated some of my life from my writing. That is a problem-with-a-capital-P.

One of my favorite bloggers is on a quest in 2010 to get her groove back, and I’m wondering if I need to embark on a similar journey. Folks, I’ve become tame - maybe not in person, ask my husband, but certainly in my net-persona - and that’s just a gosh darn shame. That’s not who I’m meant to be. I was created to be funny and fierce… and embarrassing and over-the-top and exhausting. Dangit, I might be a For Real Grown Up now (31 years old, married, preggo, homeowner - YIKES!) but that doesn’t mean I have to be boring. Quite the opposite.

* bloggeer - noun, blogging career
** blogellectual - adjective, of or pertaining to thoughtful bloggishness; noun, a person whose blog is thoughtful and/or thought-provoking
*** This voice is sometimes referred to as the “internal editor,” the most critical part of your personality, who delights at tearing apart your creations before they’ve even begun to take shap. I’m not saying all artists are sufferers of MPD, but we ARE a weird lot.

You may have already heard about Brielle Garrison, the baby born last October without eyes. I just heard about her last week from a friend at work* and I’ve been thinking about her ever since. One of the big to-dos about the story is that Brielle’s condition was unknown and undiagnosed prior to her birth. Her mom, Taylor, had adequate prenatal care, including at least one ultrasound, but this rare condition is almost never diagnosed in utero.

Frankly, I’m a little weirded out by the media’s focus on the “Oh my GOSH, can you believe the doctors missed this?” angle. Perhaps I’m reading a little too much between the headlines, but there seems to be a subtle implication: “If only the mother had known about this ahead of time, she could have had it taken care of.” Wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more.

I don’t know what choice Taylor Garrison would have made if she’d known about her daughter’s condition ahead of time. However, I am encouraged by one of her statements to the press, because it echoes my own feelings on the situation:

“A lot of worse things could have happened and thank god they didn’t,” Garrison said. “I see her just as any other baby. She does everything any other baby would.”

She’s right on. Some babies are born without hearts or brains. A child whose life ends just as it’s beginning is a profound tragedy. Blindness isn’t a tragedy - it’s a disability. And a disability is not the end of the world.**

I think those of us who are able-bodied tend to forget that not only is it possible to live without sight or hearing or the ability to walk or an Ivy-League I.Q., it is possible to have a GOOD life without those things. People do it every day, and have done it for as long as human beings have existed. Some of us have overwhelming physical or mental challenges, but those challenges cannot keep us from enjoying life unless we let them.

I have never had to make the incredibly difficult choice of whether or not to continue a pregnancy after learning that I’m carrying a special needs child or a baby with a fatal deformity. One of the reasons I’ve decided to forgo many of the common prenatal screenings is that I don’t want to be faced with that choice. You know the old saying that it’s easier to get forgiveness than permission? Well, I think it would be better - not easier, but preferable - to deal with a problem at birth, when all that can be done about it is to love my child as best I can. At least, I think that’s what would be better for ME - many other mothers would want time to think, to grieve, to prepare themselves before welcoming a differently-abled child into their family. Some other women may decide that they don’t have anything close to enough strength or patience to care for a child whose needs may, at times, be overwhelming. Those moms need as much grace as Taylor Garrison does - perhaps more.

This is one of the issues that makes the sharply defined lines between pro-this and pro-that blurry and gray. Regardless of what we each believe to be true and right objectively, most of us can think of a scenario that would challenge us to make a choice we’re not proud of. I’m glad that Brielle has a mother who loves her, who is grateful to have a perfectly imperfect child. And I hope that I will love my own child in the same way - without condition, with complete abandon.

Also interesting and heartwarming: another family welcomed a baby girl with a similar condition last year. Her parents are blessed to have a church family that has supported them and their daughter Faith from day one. Follow their story online at Super Baby Faith.

* As a general rule, I’d recommend NOT telling a pregnant woman about babies with rare deformities, because many ladies would FREAK OUT about it. Thankfully, I was having a good week, and I was able to think about the story rationally (very rare condition, probably won’t happen to my baby, and even if it did we’d all be just fine) but there’s no telling what kind of hormonal mess I would’ve been on an off week.
** I recognize that it’s really easy for me to say that a disability isn’t the end of the world, since I’m not disabled and I’m not a caretaker for anyone who is. However, I’ve heard more than a few disabled persons (and caretakers) express this sentiment: Dude, don’t feel sorry for me - feel sorry for someone with REAL problems.