Who are you?

Anytime I happen to look at how many people have viewed my posts, or commented on my posts (both of which I just figured out how to do, I think of the song by The Who; "Whoooo are you? Who, who? Who, who? (I really wanna know!)"

Like I wrote in my profile, I wrote this blog for me. When I lost my dad, there wasn't anyone with whom I could talk about it. All my friends were too young and in fact, still haven't lost their dad, and didn't understand the degree to which I was grieving. I remember one breakdown with a coworker who put her hand on my shin as she was sitting across from me. It was the most awkward showing of sympathy I think I have ever encountered, but made me realize that she simply didn't know what to do.

I could only share in the grief with Eric. But he lost my dad in an entirely different way, so it was difficult to grieve with him.

My mom was also grieving another way and I felt like I had to be the strong one in the relationship. So I pushed my grief aside with every meeting with the lawyers and every phone call.

With my mom, so much of my family was also grieving. And to be completely honest, speaking about my grief made it real, and I wanted to be as far from reality as possible. So I avoided talking about with anyone. Then the idea of this blog was born. It was like I could send my thoughts out into space where they could drift off without anyone noticing. This was my little secret.

When I hit the four year mark, I was faced with some friends who were experiencing their own grievances. So I shared this blog with them in hopes that they knew there was someone out there who could honestly say, "I know how you feel" without actually saying it. And maybe in the middle of all my words they could see that the thoughts they were thinking are OK.

My cousin seems to have a love and talent for blogging, so I shared this secret with her. I never thought she would want to share it, but this past winter, she asked.

I was past the PTSD, and although I miss the hell out of my dad every day, I can say I am past the grieving. My situation with my psycho stalker student was done, so there couldn't be any negative repercussions from talking about it, so I took the plunge and said yes.

Immediately after I did, I was terrified. I spent that night checking my blog posts, fixing misspellings thanks to frequently jotting posts with my phone. I added a profile so people didn't think I was just some babbling psycho with a chip on her shoulder.

And then she posted it. It was terrifying. I got one follower (I don't even know how to follow people) and a lot of views (48) and o started thinking of ways I can spice my blog up and make it cute like hers.

And then I realized that that's just not who I am. I don't have a blog so I can write about my awesome vegan banana bread recipe that I found (although I have thought about it because it's fucking good!). I am a mommy of two demanding children. I play "business manager" to my husband. I am a wife to a very busy husband. I am a teacher who loves her job. I hate people who bitch and moan bug don't try to fix the problem. I hate being late. I love to play the piano and damnit, I am really good at it. I really enjoy reading my cousins blog because it reminds me that there is some food in the world. I am a conservative who believes in the right to bear arms. I cry over really stupid shit. I am emotional and feel things very deeply. I am a lover, a fighter, and I have survived some really shitty times. I love having fun, being funny, and laughing.

And that's who I am. Who are you?