Today is the eighteenth anniversary of this blog. Considering how little I’ve posted during the past couple of years, perhaps I should rephrase that and say that I started this blog eighteen years ago. The two sentences mean basically the same thing, yet the first seems to indicate an ongoing proposition, while the second acknowledges the truth of my inactivity.
Over the years, I’ve used this blog as a place to dump all the thoughts and feelings that didn’t otherwise leave me alone, and luckily, nowadays I’m seldom haunted or taunted by those tenacious circular thoughts (thought loops that continue to swirl ever tighter as one’s mind tries to cope with stress and negativity).
I can’t take credit for the lessening of those thought loops since I’ve never really learned to turn them off; it’s more that I’ve landed in a situation where I can control what goes on in my life. Mostly, of course, that situation lets me spend my time alone, away from anyone or anything that causes me unnecessary distress. And I have pleasant means of occupying my mind — there’s always reading (and I do mean always — it’s no secret why the library staff knows me well) and gardening, of course.
I started the gardening season with a sense of detachment — it seemed foolish, in a way, to care so much for something about which I have little control. No matter what I do, plants die, the sun sears, winds desiccate, unsightly weeds flourish. And yet, despite my sense of detachment, I did what I could, and this fall, I’m reaping the benefits of a beautiful yard.
I have learned, over the years of living here in this sometimes harsh and unpredictable climate, that the promise of spring dies in the heat of summer, so I’ve been spending more attention to fall plants. By autumn, the winds have lessened, the sun has moderated its intensity, pulled weeds stay gone, and flowers flourish.
And I find my mind calm, with seldom anything to write about. Except, of course, to mention that there isn’t anything to blog about on this eighteenth anniversary. I could, of course, talk about all the changes that have gone on during those eighteen years, both in my life and in the world, but thinking of all that tumult would put me back where I don’t want to be.
Still, I survived those years, and through it all, this blog was there for me. And for you.
Happy bloggiversary to us!
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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.
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