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July 2009 goes down as the month I learned the most about myself in the past few years. Its funny how life goes in like these circles, we ask the universe and in a lot of ways we receive. We just really need to question how we ask. Or what we ask. Or our intent in asking.

It makes a difference.

When I first started blogging I had these hopes. I thought, hell, if Heather Armstrong can do it, I can do it. Dooce-topia was born in my mind and I formulated this whole site idea, a magazine if you will, that would incorporate assisting women and advertising businesses and then me, in the center of it all, blogging about Charlotte and Chris while my wittiness would definitely be embraced and talked about for years to come.

Not so much.

I am not a great writer but I do love to share and that sharing has lead me down many paths. From a public fight with my biological mom, to critical stabs at companies, to charity drives that made a difference, and public relations meetings that sparked conversations I never would have dreamed I would be  having. Trial, not education, has put me here. To say that this year  of blogging has been a whirlwind, would be an understatement.

To say that I have put myself out there, would be an understatement.

I often find myself grasping at my own direction. Wondering where my focus is. If you have been here more than once you notice that at any given time there tends to be something, anything, going on. I blame this on my father who raised me to fill my time up with creativity.

It’s a blessing and it’s a curse.

Still a year later, I sit here in the same desk chair I have had for 4 years,  looking back on my late twenties and just grateful I managed to avoid who I am all this time. This loud, insensitive, pushy, aggressive shell of a girl that I am. The one that never had more than one boyfriend in her life. The one that got out of college after 5 years,  proud to just wave goodbye. The person that could barely fall into line long enough to be a good military spouse.

I have been called many things. I am sure we all have called and been called. But I can guarantee for all the things I have been told I am or am not, that I judge myself more harshly then anyone else ever could.

I didn’t even cry at my moms funeral.

I block things out. I walk away. I have to be the strong person. I have to be.

My biological mom doesn’t even care I exist and never has. My stepmom was murdered. My dad has worked his whole life to set an example for us. I have lost two homes in hurricanes. I have dealt with infidelity. I have no time for weakness as I await my next chapter in life.

Back to July 2009. When the whole ‘pr blackout’ media storm hit, I was told I was wrong. I was told that I hate PR. I was told I was hypocritical. I was told I shouldn’t sell ads. I was told that I  am a bad mother. I was told my daughter was going to suffer. I was told that I, in short, shouldn’t have an opinion that was any different then anyone elses and that I had stepped out of the mold just too far.

I was told to shut-up.

I was told to shut the fuck up.

I was accused of a set up. I was accused of a stunt. I was accused of perpetrating and gathering and soliciting media in order to gain traction. I was accused of traffic mongering. Link baiting. Pretending.

But I have never pretended. Same computer chair. Same woman, sitting here in jogging pants, listening to Britney Spears. Although my dancing has died.

I was angered when told I couldn’t stand up for my women. I shouldn’t be a leader. That women were wrong to feel the way they feel. That friends of mine were fake. Were sheep. Were made fun of.  I was angered at the judgment. The words. The mobs of people who had never walked the paths I have walked and felt the way I had felt and lead the groups I have lead to judge where these paths may lead us.

But I learned.

I learned I don’t have to be strong. That I don’t have to fall into a path where others can judge me and let it affect me.  Because isn’t that the rule? That no one makes you mad but you. You allow it.  They project it, but you allow it. No matter what you say or how you say it or how you mean it, someone, somewhere, will not like you.

And that is OK.

I have learned that people think I am rich. That I am a company. That I make oodles of money. That I am a mastermind. That my site was paid for. Professionally put together. I am flattered. But none of it is parallel to the truth. I have learned that if someone posts a post about my spelling, that there are 138 people willing to jump in and bash me over it. But only one will defend.

I learned that there are more followers than leaders.

I learned its OK to walk away, that its not OK to judge others for their choices, to not jump to conclusions so quickly, to not put words in the mouths of others. Yes, I am guilty of it. I learned to have more patience,  to not let the computer control how I feel about myself, my content, my intentions, my goals, or my paths. I have learned to do more research before I form an opinion and to embrace, rather than refuse, change.

I have learned that I am afraid to write. That by being accused of being fake, that I have become fake. I am holding back.  I am afraid to have an opinion. To be ostracized for it.  I am afraid to be told that whatever I do is wrong again. But by being afraid I am fulfilling a prophecy of falseness.

I hate that.

I have learned that its OK to walk away, to not answer to accusations, that if you are happy with you, then you will always be ahead of everyone else. I have learned its not always important to make someone understand. I have learned I owe nothing to anyone. I have learned how much my husband loves me.

I learned that I’ll never change.

I also learned I don’t want to be Dooce.

~Trisha

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