Thursday, May 09, 2013

Spamalot

"The next time I read a blog, I hope that it does not disappoint me just as much as this one. I mean, yes, it was my choice to read through, nonetheless I actually believed you would have something interesting to say. All I hear is a bunch of whining about something that you could possibly fix if you weren't too busy looking for attention."

Those lovely words made up the bulk of a spam comment which ended in a request for me to check out their web site lending bowlfuls of money at exorbitant interest rates. It's the only way I knew it was a spam comment and not a for real one. But you just never know what's going to speak to you, now do you?

I get lots of spam comments and delete them all.
I hardly ever read them.
But the one above sure got my attention.
It sums up how I feel about my blog some days, too so I stopped and considered that maybe there was some truth in an anonymous spam comment.

I told myself at the beginning of my cancer journey that I would not apologize for one single word I would write about it. That I would let my words stand even when I thought I was being a self absorbed whiny person whose ego fueled dream of being a poster child for recovery or Christianity or cancer survivors evaporated with every honest word I wrote. Some days it's easier than others to stay true to being honest. Some days I want to pretty up what I write so I appear more than I am. But I won't let myself. It somehow would seem dishonouring to the reality of my inner journey to do so.

My grief counsellor affirmed this week that where I am on the journey is exactly where I am supposed to be and he wondered where the expectation came from for me to be somewhere else. I told him that if I was sick of being in the grieving/healing process then surely other people were, too. And of course as soon as I said it I knew that I needed to give myself permission again to be where I am. That this is what reintegration into regular life feels like. He told me this is exactly what it looks like. That part of me that still wants to say, OMG this is what happened to me coupled with the other part of me that says OMG I am so sick of talking about this. It actually means I am making progress.

But I tell ya that spam comment stopped me in my tracks for a moment. And has the essence of a prayer in it if I look hard enough.

4 comments:

Akannie said...

Ah...manifesting what we need. I feel that way sometimes too...I know people must be sick of me because I am sick of me. Oh well. It passes and I go back to doing what I need to take care of myself.

I'm glad to see you on this road, dear girl. Keep on trudging. We're right here with you.

Grace-WorkinProgress said...

I like the first comment. I know people are sick of me because I am sick of me.

The point of a persona blog is to get your thoughts and feelings our there. If it is how you feel it is honest.

I was depressed for a long time and wrote some crazy stuff but the blog was one of the things that kept me going.

Robin said...

I think that since what gets published in the media are the hero parts of people's stories, we think that they are 100% brave and upbeat and so we should be, too.

We all have hero parts and we all have miserably self-centered parts to our stories of . . . yeah: illness and bodily mutilation and the new normal and moving on.

Daisy said...

Apparently, it takes thousands of positive comments to build us up and only one bad one to tear us down. When I grow up, I want to let the bad ones roll off me like water off a duck's back.

On the other hand, as you point out Hope, if they zing us a bit, can we objectively assess it without an all-encompassing condemnation?

I think the Facebook phenom is hinged on this kind of feedback craving we humans have. It's interesting that there is actually now a syndrome/malaise associated to that type of social media.

Robin made a great observation. Absolutely, we want our stories quick to read and easy to digest. In fact, give it to us in catchy little clich├ęs/sound bites. Oh yes, and it better cheer us up, too.

Uggh!

"But you just never know what's going to speak to you, now do you?"

Man, you made me laugh with that one!