Remember, back in the day (i.e., last Monday) when I
foolishly decided to enact a one-year-moratorium on using my ill-fated* search for love and/or a date to avoid my “real” life”? Oh, and remember how I said that I wasn’t going to look outside myself for love…?
I’m only kind-of-complying with my own moratorium re: men. No, I didn’t put my profile back up on any online dating sites, but my monkey brain has oh so many ways to get around my own rules…..I sometimes feel I should wear a warning sign:
“IF YOU ARE A MAN, AND I AM FLIRTING WITH YOU, PLEASE DO US BOTH A FAVOR AND DO NOT TAKE THE BAIT. I KNOW HOW DIFFICULT THAT MAY BE, BECAUSE I AM WICKED-SMART AND DEAD SEXY, BUT BELIEVE ME, IT IS NOT WORTH THE BRAIN DAMAGE IN THE LONG RUN. (but check back with me in 2012!)“
My inner-minx (a/k/a kimmy) is super unhappy about that imaginary sign that I just put up for the whole wide world, and/or the limited number of people who read this blog, to see. Truth be told, she is pissed about the whole “moratorium” idea and especially the sex part.
Anyway – so, since I’m not supposed to be looking for love and defining my self-worth based upon other people, I’ve done the uber-mature thing and started defining my self-worth based on the number of “views” my blog posts get. Makes total sense, right? Yeah, so, my Valentine’s Day post got, like, (exactly) 117 views on the day it was posted….”I’m the fucking QUEEN of the world-wide interweb!”… so now, of course, anything under 117 views = FAILURE… “I SUCK” and “I will never realize my dreams of being a writer because I suck a LOT.” (those of you who are avid readers of this blog will surely recognize the voice of KIMBERLY making those last two mean and hateful statements). Needless to say, I check my site stats frequently. Or obsessively. Then I do research to see how to get more “traffic” to my blog. Then I harass people close to me (oh, hey Mom and Awesome Son) to see if they have read my latest post yet. Then I send out e-mails to groups of people who might not have heard the NEWS that Kim is blogging!! Oh, and WordPress sends a notice to all my facebook peeps everytime I post. Then I start a twitter account. I don’t even understand twitter…
I started blogging for me. I wanted to trick myself into, well, actually writing. And I use it (as you can see) like a journal, so it’s like public therapy. Free public therapy! So why do I need other people to read shit I write and get all “Oh, Kim, you’ve GOT to keep writing, you are fabulous.” Oh, but it’s worse than that. I don’t even need the feedback, I just need to see my site stats go up — which, I guess, means that I don’t care if people like/enjoy what I write, I don’t even care if they actually read it. How fucked up is that?
I think it is at least as fucked up as the “using the search for love to avoid real life” schtick.
Even worse, when I think about imposing a moratorium on checking my site stats every 5 minutes, it doesn’t feel good….. noooooo, it feels very, very bad — almost like panicky-bad. Tightness in my chest bad. “That is a horrible idea, I can’t even believe you suggested it.” bad. I don’t like it, not one bit. And, let’s figure out how to get around it.
The sad truth is that it feels worse than the whole no-more-men/sex-for-a-year moratorium. Yep. Given a choice, it seems that I would choose giving up men/relationship/sex over giving up checking my site stats. That is surprising and unsettling. I realize this is grossly over-simplified, especially around the search for men/relationship/sex stuff because it is never just that. And I know that there are many levels of healthy behavior in checking site stats between “obsession” and “ignore”, plus the whole “you could just reframe it, so that it isn’t about your self-worth and then check away!”
Where am I with all this? Right now I’m kind-of complying with my afore-mentioned moratorium, while believing it is the right thing to do AND I think I’m going to have to mull over the site stats issue some more. I know site stats don’t measure self-worth, but why is it so hard for me to even think about ignoring them?
* “ill-fated” is not really a fair characterization of my experience — i’ve been madly in love with, and have been loved by, wonderful men…. just not lately.