This week my blog gained a new reader: my grandmother. My lovely, loving, charismatic, warm, and hilarious grandmother, who by virtue of our familial relation has known me for all of my nearly twenty-five-years of existence on this planet. I still haven’t worked out how I feel about the concept of past lives and old souls inhabiting new bodies, but if there is any reality to all of this new-age talk, I know that we must have been together; souls conjoined, just like now. As I wrote in my speech for her 70th birthday, “Only in a dystopia of a world would there ever be a Sofie without her grandmother”.
Years ago, I would have been mortified by the mere thought of being physically confronted with what I had written in my online “diary”; because where my voice would continuously fail me in the “real world”, I could with the aid of my fingertips and a keyboard give life to thoughts and feelings I would never otherwise have uttered to anyone. The word “censoring” was not a part of my vocabulary, so all of it came out raw and unfiltered – like word vomit, with lots of big nasty chunks in between (Sorry, were you eating?). My main focus was not just to reflect but also to just get it out of me. I needed to empty myself from all the feelings I had inside that were sometimes too much for me to deal with. So I penned them down, figuratively speaking, and never had a problem sharing them with strangers because I knew it would stay in here, tucked away in this box, and there would never be any repercussions, because no one outside this universe knew.
I think we are all completely entitled to our own safe place, wherever that may be. Whether it’s a paper journal or one that only lives online, I think we have that right. For me, I have said it before and I will say it again – I don’t know what I would have done without the Internet. It got me through some of the worst years of my life. It also brought me the love of my life, Bugsy Boo (trying out some different nicknames for him here – hope for the best but expect the worst).
One of the benefits of growing older is that I have become significantly braver – and wiser. I use the Internet differently now. I still, like so many years ago, keep an online outlet that I invite others to read, but it no longer contains feelings or thoughts that I wouldn’t dare to say out loud to others. This is not a personal diary where I would write about my period having a funny color (oh come on, you have to be done eating by now) or a serious argument between my parents and I. While my blog is still personal, it just doesn’t have that function for me anymore; I just don’t need it. Gone are the days of teenage-anxiety and photos of tears; now it’s just a lot of mid-20’s mellow-drama with a pinch of hyperbole.
What I need now at this point in my life is to let it all out in a different way – to have a place to muse, and a place to archive memories of these years of my life. And I have that here.
To tell you the truth, I am proud of this little space that I have created. I am proud to have my family members reading along, and I am happy that I have found a balance that makes me able to sleep at night. I am no longer afraid of being found (oh, the anxiety attacks), and I love it when someone in my family comments on something they have read here, because I stand by all of it – every single word. And I didn’t before.
Anyway, this was a very long way to say that I am very, very happy that my grandmother is now reading, and that anyone is reading, really.
PS: HEJ FARMOR!