The blog is a medium of communication. There are many platforms, modes, and media. For me, communicating with the world was something my dad did through his blog. He was semi-famous, and I never imagined myself choosing a different career path than he did. Throughout my childhood, each morning would start with the steady sound of dad’s typing, intermittently pausing to be followed with the sound of hot coffee being sipped carefully and thoughtfully. Writing was what I wanted to do, because I thought that was what I was going to do, it was what people did. It sounds circular because it was.
This didn’t occur to me until recently, when I read Christina Crawford’s book “Mommie Dearest.” In it, she talks about being about my age when she landed a part as an actress on a TV show. When Christina fell ill and couldn’t continue performing, her mother took over the role for her. At last, she was faced with the question of whether she’d continue attempting to pursue a career in acting. She realized then that she’d never thought about having any other career except acting, which was what she was exclusively exposed to in being adopted and raised by the famous Joan Crawford.
I want to say something about the posts I wrote in 2014. At that time, I had only been living outside of my parents’ home for a year. My public retaliation against my parents for taking my siblings from me, by publicizing every skeleton we had in our closets, was fueled by rage and funneled by a limited perspective. I know much more now than I did five years ago, and there is so much more for me to learn.
I was a product of the environment I was raised in – and blogging was my primary means of communication. I didn’t find that my letters to my parents were getting through, and therapy didn’t provide the same release as telling the world the truth about our family. I blogged because it was what I knew. It was what my dad taught me how to do.
If I’d been taught better ways to manage my emotions, I might not have turned to a blog to vent my pain. If my dad knew better ways to manage his emotions, he probably could have avoided causing that pain in the first place, and he wouldn’t still be using his blog as an outlet. But here we are, me with five years of therapy and studying psychology behind me, and I don’t rely on my blog for the purpose of emotional stability anymore. I’ve found other outlets, and my relationship with my blog and writing as a whole has changed.
In fact, I don’t know if I’ll blog for a long time after this, because I’m exploring the range of expression I can use beyond writing. I’m still going to work on the book and make videos, but I’m only going to post here when I want to, instead of working so hard to wrack my brain for ideas for what to post on the blog.
I was a product to my business-minded father, the product of his influence. I don’t want to be that anymore, and I’m still figuring out who I am apart from my upbringing.