One of my favorite things about blogging is when people figure out that I am passive-aggressively sending them secret messages in the guise of a blog post. This happens when I post something that strikes close to home.
They don’t give me the benefit of the doubt to be a reasonably decent observer of human nature who can generalize from real life incidents to larger themes in our society. They discredit my intelligence, my education and work experience, my grasp of the human condition, and my credibility because I hit a nerve. Their nerve.
I mean, it makes perfect sense that 15 years ago I would start a blog site, build up a social media presence, spend a ton of money, so that in 2020 during a pandemic, I would drop a snarky bomb on a specific person. That would require a pretty serious grievance for me to carry with me all these years, my heart festering in disguise as I write 7000 posts on topics to throw them off the scent.
If I hit a nerve, it is most likely not because I was taking aim at you, it is simply because I hit a nerve. I make no apologies for writing about serious issues or ripping bandaids off of long festering wounds. I make no apologies for exploring how wine-mommy culture, mental health deniers, and most Catholics are harming themselves and their families and society. I lived it. I get to say something now that I’m adult not living in fear.
When I suggest people go to therapy, I think everyone would benefit from therapy.
When I criticize the impact of alcohol and drug use, it is because these are and always have been horrific community issues. I grew up in an extended family of drunks. You wouldn’t have known that if you met them. And that’s my point. They are complex issues that warrant a robust exploration.
When I urge people to incorporate charitable values into their lives, it is because that matters. It makes us better people and makes the world around us better.
When I ask for help, it is because I didn’t have that voice as a kid and young adult. Now I do. It is okay to need help and to admit it.
You don’t have to read this blog. Fortunately, most of my family and immediate friends do not read this blog.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get started on my big vengeance plot for 2036. No one will see it coming, I promise.
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