The Beauty Of Blogging And Having A Virtual Family

 

 

 

Just over three months ago, something wonderful happened to me. I was adopted into a very large family, though no official papers were signed at the time. I’m thirty-three years old and I’m blessed with a real family of my own, yet I seem to have found myself with a network of relatives in cities and countries I may or may never visit, living lives that I’ll never fully know and eating, sleeping and writing at very different times to me. Let me explain.

 

Just over three months ago, I started a blog on positivity; my philosophy and my religion. I was really looking for an outlet through which to channel my two passions; self-improvement and writing. Like a parent with two equally lovable children, I couldn’t possibly choose a favourite, so I decided this would be the perfect way to unite the two. I do believe that ink has been running through my veins for a while now. It started at around the age of nine, when I wrote secret diaries and fairy stories. This was always snuggled in bed and under the light of a torch, which gave a secret thrill to my pursuit. Quite a few years later my subject changed from that of the fairy variety and I self-published a couple of works. Though this was immensely rewarding, I was still left with so many words flapping through my mind and I had the necessity to set them free. For this reason, I started my blogging adventure.

 

I have never been particularly adventurous, unless moving to a couple of foreign countries counts. I did it alone, if that adds merit! That said, I hate camping. I don’t like extreme sports either. I’m much more of a domestic cat, with the need for a clean bathroom and a comfortable bed. So I hadn’t really considered that starting a blog would be the adventure it has become. I may have felt slightly intimidated otherwise; with the feeling a vertigo you get looking over the edge of a cliff. However, I’m starting to wonder if I may enjoy adventure after all. This is why…

 

One day I wrote a post. I didn’t really expect anything to happen. The next day I found ‘likes’. Barely had I recovered  from this delightful surprise, when I found I had my first follower. My pride was swelling and my smile was beaming. Somebody in the universe cared about what I had to say! Not only did they care, but they even liked the way in which I expressed myself. Don’t get my wrong, for I’m not an orphan in desperate need of love, but that was a real boost to my confidence! What ensued was really rather wonderful, with posts spawning ‘likes’, ‘shares’, comments and followers. I was touching the lives of others with my words AND I was being touched by these very same lives. This is the real beauty of the blogging community. It unites like-minded people who would have never had the chance to meet in ‘reality’. Through connecting in this virtual world, we can share each other’s hopes, dreams, experiences and stories in a way that would have once been unimaginable. We are enriched by unknown ‘relatives’ offering unconditional support and encouragement. We are runners on a marathon and each of us have our own style. While we share the same destination, our way of arriving there is very different. Yet taking part in such a race makes us feel like we belong. It is the love and support of the other racers that helps us get through and ultimately our personal time doesn’t really matter. It’s the experience gained along the way.

 

The Superhero Inside Us All

It was the spring of 2009 and I was enraptured by my new love. Everyday the sunlight would stream through my open window, greeting me from a restful slumber; the type of rest you only obtain when everything is pretty perfect in your life. Outdoors the spring flowers were in full bloom, swaying in the breeze with the promise of summer to come. I was sure that nothing or nobody could die whilst life pulsated with such vibrant optimism. But I was wrong.

 

The news that my mother’s husband (the man that had been my mother’s Prince Charming, the man that had taken on her family and the man that we had loved for the last twenty years) had an inoperable brain tumour, was devastating beyond words. I saw an image of the fragments of our lives just before my eyes, glistening through my tears. Everything in the world stopped making sense right there and then, and though I could hear every word my mother said to me over the telephone, I couldn’t connect those words in any intelligible way. They were jumbled in my head in a chaotic storm of thoughts and feelings. Above all, a sense of fear and dread infused my veins and the future became that very same moment.

 

I flew home to England, ready to confront this gut-wrenching sadness and I won’t lie to you; it was harder than I ever imagined, I experienced depths of emotion that I never knew existed before. Yet in the mist of all this irrevocable heartache and suffering, I saw the transformation of certain human beings around me. They went from being mere mortals to being fully-fledged superheroes.

 

Something incredible happens to us human being at times of crisis. We take on certain superpowers that we never knew we had.  We become brave and strong, ready to protect those who need to be protected. In a supreme act of love, we show immense support and compassion for those who are vulnerable and we find patience and goodness that was previously dormant. My mum looked after Peter for the nine months of his degeneration. Her broken heart was pieced together on a daily basis by the way he looked at her, the thanks he gave and the love that still shone in his eyes, when all his other faculties had gone. My mother had lived so much of her life to be with this man, that I was terrified as to what would happen once he’d gone.

 

Not only were the people around Peter superheroes. He himself was brave and dignified until the end, showing incredible strength and love. I still remember how he still managed to call my mother ‘sweetheart’ when he couldn’t get any other words out. It was incredibly poignant and always will be.

 

After he had gone, I wondered what my mother would do. Once again, her superhero strength rose up from somewhere deep inside and through the tears, the grief and the heartache, she decided it was time to take on a new project. Shortly afterwards, she bought the café in which she’d been working for the last twenty years, she taught herself to use the internet and had a go at some Spanish classes too. Do you think she felt like it every day? I’m quite sure not. Yet some survival instinct kept her going; a tiny flame of hope still burning. As a child, we all believe our parents to be superheroes, but now I was seeing that it was really true.

 

You see, although my mother is an incredibly special person, I’m quite sure that we all have this ability to overcome the most adverse of situations. Life may never be exactly the same, yet there will be new challenges and new motivations that propel us forward into a different future. There is only one thing we need to be superheroes and that is the ability to give and receive love from those around us. Nothing else. No secret power. Just love in our hearts. Love is the fuel that turns every single one of us into superheroes. No magic is needed.