I don’t know why 13 years is a milestone. I just happened to notice that that’s how long I’ve had this domain name and website.
I just renewed my Squarespace subscription today, even though I find Squarespace extremely frustrating to use for blogging (and overpriced). Shout out to Steve for letting me know that my website was no longer live (I hadn’t even noticed that my subscription had lapsed).
There’s something that feels quaint about having a blog in 2025, when most people have an endless feed of TikToks, Substacks, Instragram Reels, YouTube shorts, and BlueSky posts dripfed into our faces.
I can’t believe I started this blog in 2012. Going back and read my musings, rantings, and travelings, I’m surprised by how charming I find them. I enjoy my own candid and original voice, and even the things I wrote that make me cringe now also make me smile. I wish that I had written more. Thankfully, I did write more - I have dozens of drafts that I never published because I was embarrassed about them or didn’t feel like they were finished. Reading them over years later, I’m surprised that I didn’t publish them back then. Have my own standards lowered? Have I managed to become less perfectionistic as I’ve aged? I hope so.
It’s taken me five years to wrestle with my own shame and fear around being seen. I also have shame around wanting to be seen. Perhaps some day I’ll write publicly about the things that led to this level of shame and fear - there were many of them that built on each other. Part of it is the mere fact of existing as a woman. It fucking sucks. Being a woman in public opens you up to ridiculous amounts of criticism, condescension, and creepiness. For the past five years I have tried to hide myself from the public eye, which was convenient and easy because of 1.) grad school while working full time and 2.) covid. I even deleted my social media accounts.
Offline life is rich in its own way. I spend a lot of time in the garden and with my chickens. I got a dog. I joined two book clubs. Most mornings, my neighbors and I walk together.
Going offline changed the way I think. I started to move more slowly and deliberately, and I got more in touch with my own wants. I stopped thinking in words and reverted to thinking mostly in images and feelings.
However, there has always been a part of me that wants to be seen. Denying myself access to creative self-expression online felt like a sacrifice. It felt like perhaps I was missing out on kismet. It definitely felt like I was missing out on the collective eros of the internet. It felt sad, because I knew that I was doing it out of fear and not out of my own personal preference.
I’ve started working on some new creative projects (among other things, A Chicken Tarot Deck and coloring book). It’s no longer possible to accomplish my goals while hiding. I went back and forth about using my real name for these projects. In the end, I figured why not, and might as well throw in my middle name for good measure. Maybe I’ll even throw in my social security number too. YOLO.