The quandary

It’s currently 3:39 AM where I am and I cannot sleep. Probably not the best time to write but what can you do.

There’s lots of things I’ve thought about writing for this site and I really have been meaning to, especially if I want to keep up with my Ink Rally goals. Which I do. It’s just that this is a holiday week in the US and that means less free time at home and more time on the road and with family.

Which brings me to one of those things. Sometimes lately I get the idea that it would be awesome to link my blog up to my personal Facebook. (I don’t have a site page set up. I can’t decide if it’s worth it after the changes Facebook has recently made to how pages work. ) One of the main reasons is that I don’t upload much of any of my photos to Facebook other than the odd Instagram. It’s not that I don’t want people to see them I just really hate the compression that happens and I just don’t like having my photos on Facebook. I have many conflicting feelings about that site but I can’t seem to do without it because I live so far away from so many people. It’s a pickle.

So like my pumpkin patch and carving photos? I wouldn’t mind posting that so that extended family could see what we’ve been up to. But then. THEN. I remember what happened last time I shared my blog and some photos on Facebook where those same people could see them. In very few words, it was disastrous because they Did Not Approve. The fact that this was well over three years ago? Doesn’t matter. I still feel like I can’t talk about the details because there was such a lack of understanding on their part and huge sense of betrayal felt by yours truly that I’m not really joking when I say I could probably use a therapist to sort it all out.

What would you do if there was a hobby of yours that you just immensely loved and felt like it was an integral part of your identity HOWEVER when your family saw you exploring your hobby and trying new things and instead of encouraging you and being excited for you they respond with judgment and concern but not really concern for you, the kind of concern that shows they’re really just thinking about themselves?

Holy run-on. That’s not even all of it, really. Just the bones. The thing is I’ve got a feeling that maybe a few family members do know about my blog and read it occasionally. I really, really do not want a confrontation. I’m not ready for that again. See? I can’t even talk about the problem without feeling like I’m doing something wrong when I don’t feel like I was the one who did anything!

I’ve looked at my options. I could try to conform to their expectations. I could abandon this site and start over, attempting anonymity. I could just stop doing any sort of blogging. All of those options suck. Each one would mean that I am trying to change or hide something about myself that I’m not ashamed about but am actually rather proud of. I’ve had other people express their incredulity over what happened and I KNOW I’m not crazy. It is simply not fair to feel like I need to hide something that is not bad at all.

But then I remember what did happen, so I don’t share my posts and I continually fret over why I feel like I can’t. I know that most people would say forget them, do what you want. That’s easy to say, especially on the internet. This is the intersection of real life and the internet and that is something else. Maybe someday I’ll be able to feel like none of it matters and I can post and share whatever I like. Until then, round and round I’ll go.