Memos from the Middle

How My Blogging Is Saving My Life

Is there really going to be a winner here? (from holmesian.net)

I’ve already admitted in a previous post that I’m no fighter. In fact, besides minor squabbles with my brother, I’ve only been in one real fight in my whole life, and I’m sure that the only reason why I won that one was because my pride was so bruised that I had no choice but to swing, kick, and bite (yes, I said “bite”) with all of my might. I can talk a good game (i.e., I can make you think a butt whooping is coming soon), but if you were hell-bent on a fight, I’d probably take off running like Marion Jones after a steroid shot. All I have is my words.

In my experience, the older one gets, the less inclined she is to engage in fisticuffs (unless she’s a cast member of the Basketball Wives or the Bad Girls Club), but this doesn’t mean that there aren’t occasions when we may unleash a fortified tongue-lashing. The thing about a war of words, though, is that you need to be careful with whom you engage in one. Just one comment too many can result in you on the wrong end of a physical assault. I hate arguing (and I’m a bit of a coward), so the result for me is that I end up stressed, with insomnia, and a loss of appetite because I’m filled with words I should have said, actions I’m not brave (or immature) enough to take, and thoughts I’m too embarrassed to admit.

“My fighting stance is more ridiculous than yours.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Yes,, it is.”
(from lilithnews.com)

It has been a long time since I’ve said something that induced so much animosity in someone that she has thought about backing me into a corner and wearing me out (at least, I think it’s been a long time) because I don’t tend to divulge everything I’m thinking at the time I’m thinking it. But keeping the things that anger and annoy me stuffed inside has really bothered me . I knew that if I didn’t release my frustrations some way or another, I was bound to cause cerebral hemorrhage*. When I decided nearly five months ago to start blogging as a way to relieve some stress and do something purely for me, I had no idea of how much it would change my life.

1. I will be the first to admit that because of my Type-A personality, I have made blogging another job, but at least it’s a job that I love and over which I have total control. I can complain, fuss, and argue as much as I want, and at the end of it, I can go to bed feeling as if I have gotten some things off  my chest (instead of a fist to the chest).
2. I’m convinced that the majority of people who annoy me are illiterate, so blogging is a perfect venue to express myself. These are the people who routinely ignore stop signs, forcing you to slam on brakes to avoid that neck breaking accident. They’re also the ones you work with who’ve looked at, not read, the memo but complain full tilt about something that is fully and clearly explained in said memo.
3. I’ve been said to “do too much” on more than one occasion. Typically, the people who voice such an opinion are lazy and threatened by my work ethic. Blogging allows me to say exactly how I feel without much of a possibility of them taking the time to turn on a computer, search for my blog, and weed through the posts trying to locate the one obscure line that really tells where they can go if they don’t like what I’m saying.

If they had computers, none of this would have happened! (from superstock.com)

Needless to say, thanks to this blog, I’m still alive and kicking (metaphorically, that is).

*This post is not intended to take the place of sound medical advice from a medical professional.