While B was in the hospital, or rather hospitals, blogging kept me from freaking out about things I had no control over. At first I still had several posts to do about the Rockies, and then I started blogging about the hospital experience.
Many of the nurses, and possible T, probably thought me a little nuts, to say the least. We accompanied B to the prep room for a procedure, me with my camera around my neck, and on the way back to the room, while B was in surgery, I would take pictures of the linoleum patterns in the floor, or the art on the wall.
He was in surgery. What could I do? I could have been stressed and worried about everything that could go wrong, and if I didn’t have my blogging to keep my mind off it, that’s exactly what I would have done. But what would have been the point? It would have done neither me or T any good, and B would have sensed my tension and been more anxious than he already was.
So I’m grateful that I could keep keep my sanity by escaping into writing and photography. I wish I had had a blog eighteen years ago. What a difference that would have made when I was going through the stress of emigrating, figuring out an entirely new culture, and dealing with the indescribably infuriating process of having my library degree rejected.
None of it would have been any easier, but blogging would have prevented me from dwelling on problems in useless and unnecessarily stress-inducing ways. I would have been able to compartmentalize it all much better, I think.
Have you gone through times where blogging, or writing or photography in general, saved your sanity? Or people thought you were crazy for doing it? Or times when, looking back, you wish you had a blog? If so, I’d love to read about it.