I Don't Know You

...or at least I hope I don't. It's nothing personal.

What I mean is, I'm hoping I'm anonymous.

Not even Lucy knows about this site, although I'm often tempted to tell her. It's difficult to keep this a secret from her, since I tell her about everything else, but I think it would be better to keep this separated from my real life.

See, this is actually not my only web site and not my only blog. This is just my alter-ego, my secret identity. Hence the super-hero-esque blog name.

My other web site is the one that's the "real" me, the one that's under my real name. It's where I have my artworks posted, where I write about current art projects, thoughts about art, theory, exhibitions, and whatever really strikes my fancy. It also used to be where I wrote about my depression and anxiety. My artwork and my emotional, personal issues are intimately linked, so one inevitably leads to the other and, for a while, it was okay to use that space to write about myself in such detail, even thought I had very mixed feelings about writing under my own name.

One thing that irked me was that people I knew in real life, friends even, who also followed my web site never said anything, they never responded to any of the personal, emotional posts that I wrote. Even "good" friends that I'd known for years and years, they never said a word in response to anything personal. I'd make myself vulnerable and get nothing in return. They'd say "I read your web site," to me in person, but not a comment, not an email about anything that really mattered.

I don't know if they just didn't know how to respond, if they just didn't understand, or if they thought I was being stupid. (I doubt it's the latter, but my neuroticism keeps it on the edge of my mind.)

Then the worst happened: my mom started reading.

My relationship with my family is really strained. I don't talk to my parents very often at all, and when it is it's nothing of consequence. They certainly don't know any of the details of my situation, of my condition, and I don't believe they'd understand at all. Getting back on topic here, getting comments and emails from my mom on the personal and revealing posts I wrote felt violating. It felt like an assault, even though she meant nothing by it and, after all, I did write openly and under my own name.

The last straw was my MFA thesis exhibition, where my web site address was going to be printed on all the promotional postcards and emailed out over the school's mailing list. The amount of exposure my web site was going to get freaked me out. So I removed all the personal posts from my site (not that anyone seems to have noticed... not that anyone's told me if they noticed).

So now I'm the Anxious Avenger. It took me a while to start a new blog at all... making something of a brand new identity, setting up the space, and writing with almost no visitors are all taxing and frustrating for me, but I'm glad I'm doing it. I feel better now and I'm no longer afraid of sharing my web site with anyone because of what they could find out about me. And, in this space, I feel so much more comfortable to write more openly about myself. I feel less hindered. And, though I still have almost no visitors, I do have Susan visiting and commenting, which has given me so much extra confidence and motivation that I feel like I can keep going.

It still bugs me that Lucy doesn't know. Maybe some day...

PS— Now go visit Susan! Do it!