I have two definitions to share. The first, a part of me I’m trying to let go. The second, a part of me I’m trying to embrace.

mas-och-ism (ms-kzm) n.
*A willingness or tendency to subject oneself to unpleasant or trying experiences.

de-lights (d-lts) v.
*To take great pleasure or joy: delights in taking long walks.
*To give great pleasure or joy: an old movie that still delights.

So…

Why is it that, while I have the most joy-filled experience going on in my apartment (a beautiful five-year-old boy, bubbling over with excitement and glee, giddy to share his every thought and feeling — just like his dad — with me and the cats and the wall and the universe), I would seek out negativity on the Internet? Sometimes, I really wish I would just unplug the whole damn thing. Go all Amish on everyone.

Even though that choice would certainly cause more trouble than the amount of grief it would save me, there are times I imagine that as a delightful option. I can’t know what horrible things people are saying about me if I just unplug.

But the big question, for me, is why do I seek it? Why do I go looking? Why do I give a shit what anyone has to say about me online… especially when I brag about being so very open about my life? It’s a double-edged sword, Gillespie. You know that! Be open… and then you’re open.

Ah, gotta shake it off. It’s going to be out there whether I seek it out or not. It’s always going to be out there somewhere. That’s just part of life. So, rather than trying to figure out why it is I go seeking that crap, how about if I come up with a strategy for remembering joy, remembering the things that delight, and quickly shaking off the bullshit that folks want to spew about me and the way I live my life?

Ooh, this seems to be working. I’m flipping through the digital images of Quinn and his dad… doting, wonderful, eager child with so much love to give. I’m listening to his breathing as he sleeps, knowing how good it feels to have him kiss my forehead in the morning, whispering, “Bonnie. Bonnie. I’m awake.” So precious. And… I’m writing about my feelings. Getting it all “out there” (more grist for the mill, perhaps) and moving on.

One more definition, then.

ther-a-peu-tic (thr-pytk) adj.
*Having or exhibiting healing powers: a therapeutic agent; therapeutic exercises.

And again, life is good.

Phew! Nothing like a good workout!!