Hi Anne

Hi everyone else too (honestly, I never really believed more than about 5 people read this blog). Today, I received a comment directing me to read a comment on another blog. Very cryptic; I felt a little like I was on a treasure hunt. The other blog writer over at Pithydithy was writing about anonymity and how we aren't so anonymous and does it matter. Would it freak me out to know that others knew who I was? No not at all. Just depends who.

Many people who read know my real identity. And I don't work very hard here to hide it. In fact, I regularly slip up with the names and am reminded by kind readers. I've often thought that maybe my attempts to be marginally anonymous were a little silly but I perservere mostly for the kids. I moved over here from TLOL Journal site where I kept no secrets whatsoever. I'm a pretty open person face-to-face; it's a character flaw perhaps; not that I think I should be secretive but often I realize that my honesty (read: big mouth) has put me at a disadvantage in certain situations but there is nothing to be done after the fact.

It's pretty rare (Although it does happen. My method of birth-control? Not really a topic for the workplace.) I am marginally more open here.) that I would disclose something here that I wouldn't tell a colleague at work. My take on it is that I'm a pretty boring person and as such have nothing really to hide - in person or on this blog. This horrifies my husband - in person and on the blog - so the anonymity, thin as it is, is also a nod to him. I'm a lot like my mother: Look at me. What you get is what you see. This is me; the real me. Like me or hate me but this is all you get.

Do I share everything - no. I try to stay away from finances, relationship issues and work. Then again those parts of my life could be more boring but it would be hard. Sometimes the omissions are simply because I'm too busy or lazy to write about stuff. Sometimes I write long, detailed and angst filled posts and then delete them because in the end I know I'm not anonymous. It's not that my life is that terrible but when I'm upset I write. I've always done that. It's the origin of this blog - my infertility struggles needed an outlet or I was going to go mad. But sometimes pain has to be private (oh and sometimes I realize that I'm just hormonal and silly!) It's also why I can go weeks and not post anything. To write about happy stuff I need to motivate myself and often I'm too busy being happy to find that motivation.

People I wouldn't want to read this blog (and would likely stop blogging if it were to happen):

The kids' birthfamilies; there are some things I just don't want to "discuss" with them (even if that discussion were one-sided). I can't describe what the adoptive parent/birth parent relationship is like (and each one is different anyways) but I still constantly feel like one does when meeting a new partners' parents for the first time: terrifed that I'll do something to disappoint them or earn their disapproval. I'm not always completely honest with them (mostly to spare their feelings more than anything else) and I don't want to have to deal with that.

My own family. It would just be weird.

Close friends who I see on a regular basis. Again on the weird side. Nothing inherently wrong with it because they know all this stuff anyways but just weird.

Anne, would my stomach have done flip flops if you said you knew me from my blog. Probably a little. In such a situation, I'd be at a real disadvantage because you'd know so much about me and I, well, I'd know nothing about you. But if you read this blog you'd also recognize that I'm terrible at making friends and wouldn't mind another one (unless of course you think I'm a complete kook and to be avoided.)

So ya. Is it nice to be anonymous? Yes. Do I rely on that anonymity? A little. It's nice to be free to speak my mind with few repercussions. Do I count on it? Not really.