There are no absolutes in blogging. You can start a blog about knitting then, three months later, add a regular feature about Norwegian Death Metal. Not a big deal, because it’s your blog and it’s free and, really, why the fuck should you care about what other people want out of your Norwegian Death Metal-knitting blog.
And you don’t even have to explain yourself. You wake up one morning, put aside the “chapter nine: knitted pillow covers” post, and write up a thousand words on your life-long love affair with Gorgoroth, and the year you spent as their groupie / sex toy / official knitter.
At least that’s the way it works in my head. I wake up, write something about something, then publish it and respond in a reasonable time frame to the feedback.
That’s what personal blogs are, personal. It’s about the things we do, and the things we’ve done and the shit we think we can do in the future.
The problem I’ve been having recently is… as retarded as it sounds, this isn’t supposed to be a personal blog. But I’ve added all kinds of personal material. This isn’t supposed to be a blog about how my son did this week, but that’s what it’s turning into because, apparently, a bunch of people enjoy reading those posts.
Or at least that’s what they tell me.
But writing bullshit about what songs my son listened to this week, or what movies he saw, or what terms people used in Google to find my blog, is not what I’m supposed to be doing with this thing.
I started this blog — here I go again — because, after a tragic incident chronicled thirty or more times in this blog, I wanted to see if I could still write. And I could, so I decided to write about my recovery from a nasty and deadly disease known as manic depression. And it helped. And it got to a point where I could write about larger, more complex issues, like my family and clinical depressions.
But the personal stuff, the stuff about raising my son, the humour, the weeks in review, writing about movies, the post about Bristol Palin, the one about my cat, another about someone reading all of my 287 posts over two nights… what the fuck does any of that have to do with my recovery from one of the most prolific killing diseases known to mankind, or my broken relationships with my family?
Really? A fucking cat post? WTF!?
It has actually reached the point where a few months ago someone* nominated me for a blog award in the “Health” category, but the organizers decided I was better placed in the “Parenting” category.
So I recently posted five things I wrote between 2004 and 2006 to remind myself, and anyone else, what this blog is supposed to be about. Then I shut it down for a week because I needed time to think all of this through.
In terms of “a recovery blog” I’ve actually restarted another blog of mine to write about my son, my family and about where I live. It’s going to be my personal blog, and it’s also the next logical step in my recovery — both as a human being living with manic depression, and as a writer.
I’ve written quite a bit there for close to a month now, but still not getting a lot of feedback, which sucks, but what the fuck.
So that means this blog will be about my ongoing appointments with my psychiatrist, trying to manage my clinical depressions as well as my life as an almost fully functioning member of society — as someone whose treatment for manic depression has turned his life almost completely around.
No more cat updates.
*okay, I nominated myself. Seriously, would it have killed someone else to do it?