975 posts. 3 years. Comments?

I seem to return to the same mental image each time I celebrate another year of this little spot I have online. I was turning right into my subdivision from the lengthy road that took me out toward the lake when I decided to start a blog. I'd forced myself to work, knowing three months in that the post-doc wasn't going particularly well, and had returned to my first house early, defeated by my inability to do more or feel better. I didn't know exactly what was wrong, but feeling inadequate and small was inescapable.

In the beginning, I wrote for me. I wasn't ready for anyone to share my thoughts because the substance behind them had yet to be clarified. But with time and support - for I've always had readers of exquisite quality - I grew more free with my thoughts. Articulating feelings and memories, frustrations and goals became progressively easier as I practiced. I wrote posts I loved and others of which I'm not proud. I thought more carefully about myself in those moments spent writing, sometimes with a happy wish to share something nice and others with a desperate plea for someone to understand why I hurt so badly.

I met Friend, an event that deserves its own paragraph. As I drove away from my post-doctoral city, mopping at tears that refused to stop falling, I decided the reason I'd been there was to befriend this amazing woman who saved me more times than I can count. Luckily, I keep a daily journal so if one wanted to know about any number of jokes or arguments or evenings spent drinking or crying or working, there are archives. Bits of text that comfort me with their presence even when I don't look back at them. "You said," she told me as I continued to shake my head at the too-tall roller coaster, "that you owed me upside down. I'm not making you do that, so you should at least do this one! You wrote it on a blog so it must be true!" And while I'm not above fibbing or exaggerating to make a point, some of the most profound truths have been realized while my screen fills with words that are meant for the blog. That I know and love an extraordinary person who never openly minded my posting conversations and events (for I don't think I ever asked permission) is a blessing which leaves me awed.

Last year, I wanted to offer something new and different. That's happened, though I've met this new challenge with my typical mix of absolute elation and complete terror and dread. While some days have been difficult, I continue to believe this is right. I look around - while at home, work or driving between the two locations - and feel a sense of belonging. I'm busy and challenged and gaining a set of skills and contacts that seem highly beneficial. I'm trying to find a way to write without crossing any (major) lines and I'm not sure I always succeed. But my departure from academic research was good for me. And for those of you who endured much of the misery I documented for the past years, I hope you continue to see me pull of it. (Unless you're not such a big fan and are waiting for me to fail. If so, never fear! I screw up often enough to keep both groups happy, I'm sure.)

While on the subject of change, I've recently grown concerned about the trends that have emerged in parts of our community. I never fail to react strongly against anyone using a blog to make someone else feel small or inadequate, no matter how harmless or entertaining the intentions. So I'll say this by way of explanation, since I'll continue to stop reading (and lose all respect for) people I think are otherwise immensely talented because I abhor their disregard of others. They would have crushed me. I am overly sensitive and painfully defensive. Many of the words I put here required support, not critique, and whether someone writes a post or a paper, I wish we all reacted with a respectful pause that took their feelings into account before gleefully hacking away at them. This isn't - and hasn't been - a game to me. I'm deeply offended and viciously angry when someone takes a medium that's been so good for me and twists it into something painful for another.

When I realized I was wide awake just after 1:00 this morning, I plucked my eyebrows and flossed my teeth, biding time before growing sleepy. Then I smiled when I realized it's the day I officially talk about how much I love Minor Revisions! Last year, I was rather awed by people who left comments because I asked you if you would. So - if it isn't too much trouble - you could say hello again this year and feel free to ask any questions (or leave requests for me to stop already) as we head into year four.

Thank you. I doubt I would continue to do this if people didn't ever read it. So, sincerely and effusively, I offer many thanks.