My knees are throbbing with pain.
I suspect it’s from all the dancing last night.
I don’t do that a lot, these days. Dance. Maybe once, or twice, a year?
Last time was at Mums’ Night Out in May last year. My knees hurt then, too.
Below is the transcript of my speech from the My Blog, My Story session at the 2012 Digital Parents Conference held in Melbourne yesterday.
For those of you who were there – thank you….
For those of you who couldn’t make it – I hope that a video of all the speeches will be available shortly.
For now, here are the words….
Hi, my name is Dorothy and I AM a survivor.
A survivor of domestic violence.
A survivor of mental illness.
A survivor or sole parenting.
I am also a story teller.
My blog, Singular Insanity, IS my story. And if I were to really distil down what that story is all about, I would say that it is a story of survival.
I started to blog because I needed to be heard. I needed to tell my story. All of my stories.
By telling my stories to an anonymous internet I found connection, support and advice. I told an anonymous internet the stories I was too ashamed to tell the people I knew in real life.
In fact, at one point, I used my blog, or at least a post from my blog, to tell the “real” people in my life about those “shameful” things, because I could not face them personally.
It is very hard to tell your friends that your husband has left you.
It is EXTREMELY hard to tell your friends that your house was raided by the Federal Police, because of something your husband had been doing on the internet.
It is nearly IMPOSSIBLE to tell anyone that your husband is in jail.
Yet I did.
I told an anonymous internet.
Healing from abuse, healing from mental illness, healing from the trauma of living alone with two small children.
By telling my stories to an, initially, anonymous internet, I found the support I needed to deal with what was happening in my life. Somehow, it also normalised what was happening in my life, because I found others with similar stories.
Telling my stories, gave me courage to accept and process the things that were happening.
|I did NOT cry!|
The other aspect of healing, one that helped me to regain my self-esteem and confidence, was taking on this “frivolous blogging thing” and becoming part of a new industry. Part of the new media. Part of a new world.
The interconnected community, the interconnected and interdependent world that we are finally recognising and experiencing is something I am extremely proud to be part of. I am seeing the huge opportunities and value that blogging can bring to individuals.
When people ask me what I do, these days I say that I’m a blogger and a writer. Some have no idea what I’m talking about, but more and more do.
I have learnt a whole heap about blogging and connection in the past year. I don’t necessarily apply everything I’ve learnt to my own blog, but that is a choice I make deliberately.
I do recognise, however, that the knowledge and skills I have gained are valuable. I have spent a lot of time and effort learning, playing and connecting.
I feel good about being able to learn “new tricks” and enter a whole new industry at the ripe old age of 43. I feel more confident about learning more stuff, about starting from scratch. I now like the idea of venturing into uncharted waters and trying new things.
If you told me a year ago, when I attended this conference, that I would be paid to write, that I would be making videos of myself and posting them on the internet, or that I would be speaking to you here today, I probably would have had a panic attack. I would have definitely laughed at you.
I am far, far from fully healed. I don’t know that I ever will be. Every day is a story of survival. Sometimes I share those stories, sometimes I don’t. But every bit of writing that I release to the anonymous internet brings with it another bit of healing.
And that’s why I keep blogging.
And that’s MY story.
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