Sunday, May 3, 2009

Why I Deleted My Last Post, Why I Was Wrong to Do So, And Why I Am Reposting It.

Hello Dear Reader!

If you've followed this blog the past week, you might have been puzzled by the appearance and subsequent disappearance of a blog post of a rather melancholy and disorderly nature. As you shall observe below, it has been reposted along with all the kind comments commented upon it before its deletion.

In considering my actions upon this poor piece of writing, I felt (and thought - for Dr. Patrick admirers) that I ought to repost, apologize, and explain myself, if not for your benefit, dear reader, then for my own.

Why I wrote this post:
The initial set of actions (writing, posting, and deleting) were all done under the influence of PMS. I'm sure you're all well aware of this delightful cognitive phenomenon, having either suffered directly its effects or having suffered by virtue of the actions of another sufferer.

I wrote this post because, well, I did feel just as I described: split between two identities, unwilling to give up the new, yet not finding any place for her within the framework of the old. I felt out of place here, like a sore thumb, always wanting to talk about Augustine College to people who weren't really that interested, always quoting (Dr.) Tingley, or Joel, or Zack, or Emily and then suddenly realizing that the jokes just weren't funny without the context. I wanted to go home, but where was home? I had to spill some of this, just had to, but I couldn't do it to anyone in particular among my family. I was already feeling terribly afraid that I had hurt them by talking so much about Augustine even though I hadn't seen them in four months. So I spilled it to blog. At least on blog my parents weren't likely to read my groanings and some potential Augustinian sympathizers might. At any rate, I needed to explain myself to someone.

It was late at night when I began, tears falling on my keys, amid piles of boxes and junk from preparations to move my room. Late night blogging seems to be the norm of late, but I must somehow reverse this trend as it does not make for posts of exceeding joviality. I finished, blew my nose and wiped my eyes, then threw myself in bed.

Why I deleted this post:
The next morning I drove out to the community college and dropped off my application to Nursing School. Then I came back and started cleaning. (psst: Cleaning Warpath seems to also come with PMS for me.) I washed the dishes, cleared the counters, swept the main living spaces, mopped, oiled the wood floor... and then collapsed in an arm chair for a few minutes (ok, maybe more than a few minutes) of checking for pictures of Graduation on Facebook. I was already feeling ashamed of being blunt with my emotions on blog, as I certainly wasn't trying to attract pity or induce anyone to think that I was unhappy to be home or unhappy with my lot in life, but I thought I might as well let what I had written stay written.

Within 10 minutes, as a result of a conversation and email, I was convinced that I had been totally misunderstood, had hurt and perhaps even angered one who was dear to me. I was angry and frustrated - mostly with myself. Petulantly, I unreasonably thought that if I deleted the post, all source of any bad feelings would be destroyed. In that impulse, I clicked "delete" and over an hour of typing vanished. (Per my usual custom not to completely destroy my writing, I first emailed the post to myself.)

Why I was wrong to delete the post:
First, I acted in anger and frustration without deliberation. Even if the post should have been deleted, this was not the manner in which the act ought to have been performed.

Second, I acted with the intent to destroy the source of my problems, as if I of myself could by one act dispell my fear and preserve my loves. Silly as it might sound (C'mon, it's just a little blog post), by looking to myself for my life I made a god of myself for myself. (Luther: An idol is anything one fears, loves, and trusts in)

Third, by deleting the post, I was attempting to deny history. The past exists by virtue of having occured. Because it is not in the present, it cannot be altered. I did post this post, and to pretend not to have done so would simply be to deny my own communication. It would be one thing if the post were harmful in some way or if no person had read it before I deleted it. As the matter stood, however, the post was merely an honest appraisal of myself (granted, the appraisal was performed at an hour when I was not fully myself) and perhaps helpful to someone in understanding me and maybe even their own experience. Also, several of you readers left very gracious, comforting comments for which it were incivility and ingratitude to erase as though you had never extended your kindness to me.

Fourth, if the content of this post were truly of the noxious sort which ought never to have been published in the first place, the wrong was done when I first posted it. Perhaps it exposes a need for longer deliberation before posting a post in the first place. Certainly, the deletion demonstrated an even greater disregard for deliberation and consideration that the initial posting. If the post were hurtful, more would be required of me than a simple deletion to repair the damage.

For all these reasons, and maybe more, I was wrong to delete the previous post.

Why I am reposting this post:
First, because the writing of this post was an important part of the history of this blog and belongs in it.

Second, because this post may perhaps be helpful for anyone (possibly myself some years in the future) seeking to understand me, my life, my mind, and my development.

Third, because of the kind comments posted before I deleted the piece. It seems a travesty to belittle such courtesy to food for the garbage bin.

Fourth, because I am now seeking to come clean with myself, to hold myself accountable for my actions, and to not simply pass over what I have done wrong when I could do something to right it; to build up a character which deliberates and chooses wisely. (Though I know my salvation and forgiveness is not dependant upon these things, the quality of help I would proffer my neighbor is affected by the state of my character.)

To this end, I hope to soon draw up a set of guidelines for my future blogging expeditions with tips for the reader who may choose to accompany me upon such exploration.

My apologies and gratefulness for your patience with my human frailties and humourous mood swings. Thanks to all who initially commented on the last post.


elizabeth said...

Dear Sarah Nova!

I understand these mood swings. However do not let emotions discount your real experience.

I know all about being some where that was so life giving and everyone at home (in my experience) not only could not understand what I was trying to relay but did not even want to look at pictures of where I had been. To them they were all unknown faces. To me it was a new world with new communities, a world where I felt more myself, seen and where I was gaining new words to articulate who I am and how I see things. Similar to discovering poetry that articulates what I had not been able to say myself.

It is truely hard to engage people I find.

This is painful. However what you are going through in my world is very natural. And a person's sense of home does change and this can be quite challenging and confusing. To find where one belongs - I have still to fully discover this - but in the end God is our home.

My love to you.

TruthQuestioner said...

Dear Elizabeth,

I knew you would understand (at least in part.) I also enjoy poetry for the same reasons.

Home: Yes exactly! God is our home. And interestingly, I didn't really feel as if I had come home untill I'd been to Confession and Divine Service. Church - the Word and Sacraments made me at home again. And this is just as it should be. My physical home will change, but my home in the Bride of Christ, the one holy catholic and apostolic church, will not change.

elizabeth said...

Yes. We know in part and only see in part, one day we will be see and be seen face to face...

We are different people with different reactions and history, but with various similar experiences which make my understanding of you possible, in part.

Yes. God is our home. I am glad you felt more centred when you were at your church. What a blessing.