I didn’t post yesterday. I post five times a week because before I started this thing I read that if you can post five times a week for the first month, then you can probably do it and because I read somewhere else that if you want to have a successful blog, you should post five times a week for the first year. Also, as a reader of blogs, I know that new content is key. Even the best writers will lose me if they don’t post fairly regularly. I’ve missed a day before, like when my mother-in-law was in town for Thanksgiving, or when I had all-day plans, and I’ve always made up for it by posting something extra on the weekend. Yesterday was the first day of regularly scheduled programming I’ve skipped for no other reason than I just didn’t feel like writing. I had no plans. I didn’t leave the house all day other than to go the gym, in fact. And I had something interesting to write about, too. [This article on birth control, inspired by this extremely well-written post by a blogger I read and respect.] The fact is, I just couldn’t muster up the energy.
I wouldn’t normally write about writers’ block. Its’ just too meta, even for me. However, I think the reason behind yesterdays’ funk is relevant to the blog.
Yesterday was a no good, terrible, very bad day. A semi-professional relationship Husband and I have been cultivating went badly wrong. I won’t go into the details, because they’re not really interesting to anybody but us, except to say that Husband and I have been looking to get a dog from a reputable breeder, we’ve been in contact with one particular breeder since August, we planned on purchasing a dog from her this month, and due to a variety of reasons, we will no longer be working with her. Fine. Things happen.
The real cause of the no good, terrible, very bad day is an email that this breeder sent me. After we came to the conclusion that we would no longer be working together, she sent me one last spiteful email, attacking my character and personality. It was mean and, frankly, bitchy. And completely unnecessary, since we’d already said everything we needed to say in a series of previous emails. I was hurt by the things she said and I was surprised, because I haven’t had an interaction like that for a long time. It seemed very petty. I thought when you grew up, you didn’t treat people like that anymore.
I thought back to times in the past when people have intentionally said hurtful things that stuck with me: once first year of law school, a couple times in college, and lots of times in high school. All a long time ago. As I told Husband about these experiences, I noticed a trend: women were always behind the hurt. I sighed and realized I could come up with no explanation for the series of vicious behaviors I’d just described other than women can be really, really mean with their words. To each other, almost exclusively. We know how to make other women hurt and, for some reason, we do it.
After that realization, I could not bring myself to touch my roaring, feministy, you-go-girl blog. To write about reproductive rights and empowerment and stupid, male stereotypes. Because these days, it feels like we women play a big role in keeping each other down.