In celebration of BlogHer’s 10th anniversary they posed to their viewers the following question: Where Were You 10 Years Ago? And here’s my answer:
Ten years ago I had just turned 50. I was working at another crappy job, had been divorced for quite awhile with no prospects on the horizon, cancelled my subscription to Match.com and my children were both out of the house and apparently didn’t need me anymore. Well, not the way they used to.
It was horrible time. I felt sorry for myself. I felt frightened that life was passing me by and had nothing of real substance to show for it. You know…the usual stuff one tends to think about when staring down their own mortality with both eyes wide open.
So a friend suggested I start a blog. “Cathartic” was the word she used and I figured maybe she was right. Maybe I did need an outlet. I had after all kept a journal for many years. But that was private and this was very much not. The idea of exposing myself to the entire world definitely made me pause and rightfully so. But I soon got over it and whatever my intentions were when I started, quickly turned to disaster. The posts were nothing but a mishmash of things, a boring mishmash I might add that only your best friends and mother would bother to read. It was obvious that I lacked confidence, lacked a voice and had not a bloody clue what the hell I was doing.
And that was the end of that! No more blogging for me. If I wanted to resurrect this tired, old spirit, I would simply have to find another way.
Fast forward to the here and now, the highly evolved sixty-something generation where I have plenty to say and to a thriving circle of friends. Old friends, new friends, empowered women who continue to inspire me on a daily basis. Yes, I’m blogging again. Yes, I’m Facebooking, I’m tweeting. I’m also packing up my apartment to be near my daughter who’s due to give birth, in between working on that first novel.
I don’t worry anymore about if my life has or has not made a dent in the great world beyond. Who the heck has time? I simply look around at what’s right here in front of me, at the mere stretch of my fingertips…and know.
L. Donsky-Levine, writer and proud owner of a voice-