The other day I wrote what has so far been my most popular post. I felt inspired, so I wrote it. And then I went on with my day. But that night, just before bed, I looked at my calendar and saw the note I had made for myself a while back: it was the 2 year anniversary of this blog!
I feel bad, like I forgot a friend’s birthday. This blog has been so helpful for me, and I forgot its anniversary! It got me thinking, too, about how much has changed since I started writing this.
Two years ago I was just starting to feel much worse, which in hindsight is probably why I started this blog when I did. I wrote every single day for months, until my energy waned and I was forced to cut back. Still, even now it’s rare for me to have a day that I don’t think about what to write here. I have so many ideas, so many posts composed in my mind, and I hope that one day I can type them all out.
Two years ago I was typing into emptiness. My mom would sometimes read my blog, but that was about it. Now I have dozens of readers on my mailing list, many more who follow me through twitter, and probably more I don’t know about who use Feedly, Digg, or some other reader. I get comments, which mean so much to me. It’s fantastic to know that people enjoy, are touched, or feel comforted by this blog. I want so much to reach out, and this my way of doing it.
Two years ago I thought I communicated well about my illnesses. Now I know better. As I write about things I often don’t even think to discuss, I realize how much I censor, whether intentionally or not. When I question if I should write about something, I realize that if I can’t be open about it here, in relative anonymity, then I must be pretty closed in real life. And when people comment on certain posts to say how rare it is to have these discussions, I remember that I’m not the only one with this problem.
Two years ago I was working full time. I knew my days of working full time were limited, but I expected to count them in years, not weeks. Now I have been out of work for almost as long as this blog has been around. I didn’t immediately return as I had hoped, and I’ve been coping with that. I don’t know if I will return to work some day. I hope that I will. But I’m trying to accept the uncertainty of it all.
Two years ago I thought I knew what was causing the worst of my health problems. Now, through a lot of research, I’ve found multiple other possible causes. I’ve discovered ways that I’ve been improperly treated. I have learned about new tests that need to be run. I have looked for new practitioners to see, including “non-traditional” ones.
Two years ago I thought I could never make “drastic” changes to my diet. Now I’ve redefined “drastic” because the changes are so worthwhile that I no longer think of them as being difficult. Food doesn’t matter. Health matters. Food is a means to an end for me, so I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure my food isn’t making me sick.
Two years ago I needed to vent. I got frustrated by so many health-related issues. My family and friends tried to understand, but they just didn’t get it. Now I have you. You understand. Sometimes things happen that suck and it helps to commiserate with people who’ve been through it themselves. Insensitive comments and rude actions need to be changed, but we also need to deal with them ourselves on a case-by-case basis. You’ve helped me do that. This blog has been more cathartic than I ever would have imagined when I started writing it.
So thank you for two wonderful years. It’s been a wonderful journey so far and I’m looking forward to seeing it continue.
Edit: I forgot to mention that this is my 357th post here. In case you were wondering (I was, which is why I went back to look it up.)