Thelanguageoflight’s Blog
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Blogger’s Block


I used to love to blog. Although I suppose it is a form of narcissism, it felt so exciting in the beginning – sharing ideas and perspectives with both friends and strangers. Lately, the bloom has disappeared from the rose, and I’m not quite sure what to do about it.

Inherent in sharing your thoughts and experiences is the right of those reading them to comment. I have a pretty thick skin. I’ve survived vicious book reviews, myriad rejection letters, and book signings where no one showed up. Yet, my mind is blown by some of the remarks left on this blog, many of which I just delete because they are so incredibly rude, lazy and poorly written.

If you want to engage in meaningful debate, play devil’s advocate, or share your experience, I’m all for it. I don’t need everyone to agree with me. Healthy dialogue was my mission when I began this blog. Why do people need to call me names, though? Are some people so miserable that leaving mean-spirited comments on a stranger’s blog is the only way they can express their feelings?  Or perhaps what I said struck a nerve.

Also part and parcel of the blog experience is that people you don’t speak to anymore pop up. It’s one thing to hear from an old high school friend with whom you’ve lost touch. It’s completely different when someone you consciously chose to move away from contacts you – lost in their own needs yet completely willing to make me the reason they’ve reached out.

I’m not really upset. Just disillusioned. And it gave me blogger’s block. Fortunately, I seem to be getting over it.


4 Responses to “Blogger’s Block”

  1. You are a lazy, self centered pig.
    Fat pig. With no life and no love in your life.
    Choke on your rhetoric. No one gives a damn.

  2. You sound like a self absorbed twit. Why don’t you just hunker down with a plate of meatballs and have at it. Loser.

  3. I too, am morbidly obese, and struggle with the pain of rejection daily. But I just can’t stop eating. Maybe it’s because I was abused by my grandfather. Who knows.
    I have a lasagne in the oven. Cheers, thanks a lot.

  4. I have a question- do you feel particularly alone and vulnerable on a day commerating the essence of being a mother to a child?

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