Being Known: Part One

It's an interesting thing, being known. Especially being known by strangers. I spent my entire childhood trying to be seen and heard. Dancing and chattering and interrupting. Trying to establish myself as someone worthy and desired. Someone with an identity, someone wanted. And now I've found myself full circle.
In my first book, I told the whole world my deepest darkest journal bound secrets. The kind of secrets a sane person would go to great lengths to hide, stashing the incriminating thoughts under boards in the floor and then putting a piano over the top. Not me. I took those secrets and published them for anyone to see including crazy relatives and long lost friends whom I had hoped would remain long lost. I spilled them without a full understanding of what might come next. Strangers knowing my details. My idiosyncrasies. My weirdness that used to belong only to me.
Since the release of the book, I've had a few crazies contact me (and some really cool people too). Sometimes I feel flattered. Sometimes exuberant. And sometimes a little creeped out. People I've never met saying things like “we are so much alike” or “my best friend is just like you” or making sweeping comments about how I handled the breakup. It feels like starting in the middle of a conversation I just joined. Feels like someone's been digging through my trash. Feels a little unnerving. I don't know how people like Dooce.com do it. She gets more readers in one day than I've had with a nationally published book. In her blog, she exposes (in graphic details) her bathroom troubles and fights with her husband and the truth about how hard it is to raise a baby. How sometimes she wants to scream and run.
Seems like lately, anyone who's anyone has a blog. Many of my friends have blogs. Zach Braff has a blog. Even Dan Miller from Channel 4 news has a blog. There are blogging groups to join and even blogger conferences where people congregate to talk about blogs. A person could easily spend days on end reading other people's thoughts and opinions. Personal journals by friends and strangers posted to the public. A cathartic, anonymous space for a person to get things off her chest. A post to confess or pass judgment or be the person you can't be in reality. And this popular self-publishing phenomenon has caught on quickly. The personal online journal is the new black...or something.
I'm relatively new to the blog world, but I've stumbled across a few people that I find infinitely interesting - like Dooce. People whose words touch me and move me and inspire. Because of their candid stories, I sometimes feel like I know them. Like we're friends. Because I know intimate details of their lives, I feel a connection. Because I know their hurts and their struggles. Because I've seen their pictures. But in most cases, I don't even know their real names. Some of these bloggers are anonymous or use only a nickname. And yet they put their thoughts - deeply personal thoughts - online for anyone to read. For me to read. And I wonder...what is it about an online journal that makes a person free to be. Free to confess. Divulge.
I wonder if it's the desire to be known. The desire to feel liked. Loved. Understood. Publishing a blog is an easy way to say what you think without facing criticism or judgment. And while people can comment on your post or send you an email, there's always the option to turn off comments or refuse to provide an email address. It's intoxicating, being able to say absolutely whatever you want (anything from what you had for lunch to why you ended your marriage) without any confrontations or obvious consequences. Telling your secrets, even anonymously, can be freeing. I've even seen one woman's blog where she posts a naked photo of herself every Friday. Self revelation at its height.
And I get it. Telling someone a secret about yourself in person can be risky. Confrontational. But posting it on your blog gives you the control. No one can interrupt or give you “the look” or shake their head in shame. You can say it fully, in one breath. You can blather on about boring life details (my particular brand of blogging) without seeing the boredom on your listener's (reader's) face. You can be known - be yourself - without the messiness of relationship.

To be continued...