At about the time that I was beginning to sink into the molasses of my funk, I decided to deliberately withdraw from an online presence. I can't really go into all the reasons for that, but at the time I was thinking of it as a spiritual discipline, sort of like electronic solitude. To this day, I have no idea if I really benefited from this decision. I am a terrible introvert, and it's hard for me to tell the difference between setting a wise boundary and hiding under the covers. I suspect the latter, but it sounds so much more holy and luminous to say I was on a year-long digital silent retreat. So saintly, yes?
What I do know is that I lost something when I stopped blogging. I missed the risk-taking and the challenge and the practice of putting myself out there. I missed the unexpected self-revelation, the way I would find myself reflected in all of your words. I missed the unexplainable kinship I experienced with the community of people who graced my space here. So, ironically, when my body was sending me these haunting letters, I was less able to decipher them because I set aside the discipline of listening to myself in writing.
Don't get me wrong, there were things about the way I was doing my online life that needed to be addressed. I'm embarrassed to say that the amount of energy and time I spent:
• writing a blog
• checking my blog for messages
• responding to messages
• checking other people's blogs
• reading other people's blogs
• commenting on other people's blogs
• checking for comments after my comments, etc.
was considerable and way off balance. But I think it's kind of cheating to deal with it by abandoning it. It's like saying, "I really like you and I value our relationship, but I think we've been spending too much time together and my other relationships are starting to suffer. So let's break up."
Anyway, I'm glad to be back here telling my story. It's just starting to warm up now. Are you curious what comes next? Me too.