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Writer's pictureNathan Coley

Blogging by Numbers, Blogging Out of Spite.


The number of blogs that come and go probably rivals the number of galaxies in the entire cosmos.


Think about that. A cursory internet search reveals that there are over 600 million of these rhetorical creations on the internet.


I do not, at this moment, have working knowledge about how many galaxies are in the universe, though I suspect that this number is a large one as well. And yes, I could have Googled this fact sooner than the time it took me to write this brief paragraph.


Self-awareness is grand! It’s really an amazing thing to have a front row seat to one’s own silliness. It’s even more fun when you realize your impotence against your own behavior.


Promoting a blog on social media is even more amusing still, especially in the infancy stages. Welcome to a world where likes and subscribes are generally by people who wish to sell you sex, mushrooms, real estate, and cryptocurrency.


Want to take the ding out of a notification bell? See that the sender was less interested in your writing and more interested in BitCoin.


Now imagine that being a daily pattern and reality.


Most writers spend their time producing work that is unlikely to get much of an audience (and at this stage, compensation is the worst of all pipe dreams). Unless your name is Stephen King or some other celebrity wordsmith, your words are more like baby sea turtles, all getting gobbled up.


By 600 million Ospreys.


Writers do want money, it’s true. We make this terrible and critical mistake of watching those around us being compensated for their talents, so we think:  “Golly. Maybe I can be a part of this money thing too!”


In the past I have heard disparaging remarks about “monetizing my illness.” If anyone reading thinks I am monetizing my illness or scoffs at the idea, please accept my apology. I pay 22 dollars a month for my web service, plus an annual fee to keep my URL. Then, of course, there’s the time spent blogging. The profits have yet to come in on account of a total lack of revenue.


I am so fucking sorry.


I am not alone in this, of course. In a world where 600 million blogs exist on the internet, most of them are destined to fail before a single word is typed: Our culture is more about soundbites and visual media these days (and yes, I have been told to start a YouTube channel, and YES, I plan on doing so). There’s no reason to look for dopamine in an article when it can easily be had in an endless series of Reels.


Like many other bloggers in my position, I frequently feel like stopping this verbal song and dance. To be clear I don’t have delusions of grandeur, and I am not stomping around like a five-year old who suddenly realizes they didn’t get their way. I am just being open and authentic about the realities of blogging in a space where writers tend to start out and stay perfectly invisible. When the world is filled with visible examples of commercially successful writing that is beloved by others, it’s tough.


If you are reading with me now and have been, I love you for that. My love is such that I have no choice but to be transparent about the realities of this:


Blogging can be the pits.


And at the same time, writing down my thoughts (the act thereof), and sharing those thoughts with others, is outrageously soothing to my aching brain. As I said many entries ago, the act of being public with my diagnosis and condition stopped the rain clouds in my head.


Think about what it’s like on the first day that officially feels like spring, where the warmth comes and stays and says, “I am here to stay, I am not lying this time.”


This is what my brain said to me when I decided to launch a blog:  “The rain has stopped, Nathan. I am not lying this time.”


The act of being open and honest, especially with the act of writing, feels like stepping into a warm light.


The reason? Nobody gets to hate me for their poor construction of my character and values. Now they have all the info. Now they have to proceed with the hatred in the face of enlightenment.


When my diagnosis was in the dark, it could be used against me. It can still be used against me (and has been) but not without immediately indicting the person who wields it.


This blog is the most important part of my therapy at the present moment. This blog has saved my life and is saving my life.


All of these truths hold, regardless of how many people read it, and the impact in THAT department is certainly beyond numbers.


More than one person has opened up to me since the launch of this space. The reason? They were simply glad that someone in their orbit was talking about mental health. They were encouraged.


One reader told me that my writings made them feel like a person again. Imagine that.


Blogging is rough, especially when I blog by numbers. The number of clicks on a post can be flat out deflating.


Even so?


I don’t know what else to do but write. And now, in this baffling finale of 2023, I have (see previous entries) actually been told to write about anything BUT my mental health.


I want as many readers as I can get, but please let me be clear:


This blog is for me. It might benefit others, but it is me. It contains my thoughts. My pain. My journey. Having been given marching orders to depart from my thoughts, my pain, and my journey, I can promise one thing:


I don’t care if I end up with negative 600 million readers (which I would define as a readership of bots).


If all else fails, I will blog out of spite. Anyone desiring a gentler approach from me is reminded that they can find such invalidating responses to trauma on the Hallmark Channel.






Yours Mentally,





Nathan


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