When I started Band Back Together, it was sort of a nebulous concept for a blog. Most group blogs I’d ever seen were strictly controlled and stuck to one subject. Or they weren’t controlled – or worse, forums – at all and Internet Mole People (my word for trolls) abounded. And having the resource pages available for the broad range of categories, well I hadn’t seen that either. When I had to explain the concept of the blog, I couldn’t.
I just knew that Band Back Together was going to go somewhere, I just didn’t know exactly, well, where.
On a Monday in the middle of September, Band Back Together was launched. I’d put out a call for some stories the Friday before so that the site would have some stuff on it initially, hoping that filling it with other stories (besides my own) would make people feel more encouraged to submit. It was hard to explain that the site wasn’t another Superblog of Bloggers. It was just, well, us.
I think I slept a total of six hours that weekend, trying to get the site ready for the launch.
We launched and the server crashed and burned. I had to frantically scramble around to get a new one set up (whatever that means).
I’m not a numbers person, but I think that you should see this:
In the past 2.5 months, we’ve published 460 posts (there are 25 more waiting to be published).
We have moderated and actually published 2,600 comments.
As if those numbers aren’t staggering enough, here is where my mind is truly blown.
Are you ready?
Just. Holy balls, Pranksters:
486 people.
486 people have signed up in 2.5 months to WRITE on this site. 486 people have signed up to pour their heart and soul out onto a blank WordPress document, exposing all of their secrets and letting their demons, at long last, out.
Four-hundred. Eighty-six. People.
Those are the people I can measure. The people who have bothered to take the time to fill out a profile, even if they’ve never been able to spill their words out through their fingers. They are here. Youare here.
There are others, of course. Those of you who read silently, tirelessly in the background, sending prayers and love to the writers who write on this site, which is really your site, every day.
Band Back Together may have once been my site, but it is no longer, which is precisely as it should be. This was never meant to be my site. This is not another tired Super Bloggers site where I sit around with my friends and tell the same old shit. It’s so much more than that. The site goes beyond everything I ever expected it could do.
I’m honored to be a part of this site and I am humbled by each of you. Every comment matters. Every word you write is read by someone else. Your stories matter. You matter.
I forgot to add that Band Back Together has been the best therapy for me I have had in YEARS! Not only has it set words into the universe that I have been dying to say, it also made me realize I am not alone. I will forever –eva –eva applaud you for this.
And I love (and post at) Band Back Together. I think it’s a great site and has so much potential to grow into something AMAZING.
I lurk around on Band Back Together almost every day. There are so many beautiful stories there. I feel that it really is making a difference in people’s lives.
I LOVE Band Back Together! TY TY for starting it. I just started my own blog last week. And Band Back Together is the reason. I realized I liked getting my feelings out. I liked writing for me. It helped me. I like telling my stories and being humorous. I also like telling my dark stories. So TY again. But most of all I LOVE the community of Band Back Together. Everyone there is so supportive and caring. People need that. Especially during the dark days.
There are more, many more, just like it.
I did not write them myself. Nor did I pay anyone to write them. I just thought you should be aware. It is your site, after all
We have a Facebook Page we have Networked Ourselves on their Networked Blogs AND we’re on The Twitter.
Just, you know, let people know that Their Band is ready for them to join, okay?
And in the meantime, WRITE HARD, Pranksters, WRITE HARD. Can’t wait to see what happens here in 2011.
(We also have shirts.)
Update (I’d written this post on Saturday): I wanted to thank everyone who has taken the time to tweet and promote their stories and others from their personal Twitter, Facebook profiles and blogs. I think that seeing stories connected to real people – real people that you know – I think that really helps to make each of your stories real. And you ARE all real, I think, unless you’re actually robots, in which case, WELL PLAYED ROBOTS.
The outpouring of support in the past two days has been tremendous. You continue to amaze me.
Well, Band, I felt the need to cheer myself on. And I realized, who better to celebrate with than The Band? The Band totally rallied for me before… they deserve good news.
So here I am. And here is a list of recent successes:
I haven’t had a cigarette since Oct. 20th! That’s almost 5 weeks!
I have a new friend. In real life! Finally!
I’m starting to become the kind of mom I want to be.
I’m branching out into the world again!
I crawled out of my hidey hole. I’ve reached out at church – and people are responding! I am not alone! And I’m ENJOYING the time I spend with my daughter! I’m laughing again! And having fun!
I still have rough bits sometimes, but I’m learning how to manage them better and not slide into the darkness every time.
I feel hopeful. It pretty much rules.
I can’t pinpoint exactly when it started or what started it. But I’m grateful and I want to celebrate. Even if this isn’t forever…it’s been a month or so of feeling good so far but I don’t expect permanence in my life. It’s good today.
Thank you, Band. Thanks for celebrating with me, and for cheering me on when I needed it.
Grief is a very strange journey and process. Some days I find myself in the best mood – happy and cheerful and then without warning can be smacked in the face with sadness and tears. Sometimes it happens without warning and one thing I have learned through these 10 miscarriages is that is okay. It is normal and it is okay.
There are times where a certain trigger will bring out the grief and I have been spending some time identifying those and learning to be okay with the emotions that come up. Television has been a big trigger, so has Twitter and Facebook and mostly a specific time of year or date. Those last ones I can brace for {as much as anyone can} or avoid Twitter or Facebook for some time if I feel like I just don’t want to face it for the moment. My husband will brace me for television or movies that might have some sensitive material in it for me and will be there if it gets to me. Those I can all ‘deal’ with. They make sense and can be avoided.
One trigger I am having some trouble coming to terms with – or figuring out just how to deal with – are triggers that are from within my body – normal body functions.
Miscarriages are painful. PHYSICALLY PAINFUL. Cramping and bleeding can be intense and one of my biggest lingering triggers is normal menstrual cramping and bleeding. Kind of a double hit because women can be more emotional during their period and compound that with an emotional trigger response it can be very difficult. Very.
It can sort of throw me back. It triggers me to re-live those days where i was fighting emotional and physical anguish. It leaves me confused. Confused because I can’t avoid it. I am almost certain that the emotions that play into it make the cramps that much worse which is then a cycle that I just can’t seem to avoid.
It has slowed down a bit now because I am on birth control that stops monthly periods but the cramps still come and go and each time I can be caught off guard and will find myself back there.
It is hard. very hard. I am learning that it is okay to feel it. I am learning to sit in the grief because running away from it will not make it disappear. It will be okay.
Well, Band, I felt the need to cheer myself on. And I realized, who better to celebrate with than The Band? The Band totally rallied for me before… they deserve good news.
So here I am. And here is a list of recent successes:
I haven’t had a cigarette since Oct. 20th! That’s almost 5 weeks!
I have a new friend. In real life! Finally!
I’m starting to become the kind of mom I want to be.
I’m branching out into the world again!
I crawled out of my hidey-hole. I’ve reached out at church – and people are responding! I am not alone! And I’m ENJOYING the time I spend with my daughter! I’m laughing again! And having fun!
I still have rough bits sometimes, but I’m learning how to manage them better and not slide into the darkness every time.
I feel hopeful. It pretty much rules.
I can’t pinpoint exactly when it started or what started it. But I’m grateful and I want to celebrate. Even if this isn’t forever…it’s been a month or so of feeling good so far but I don’t expect permanence in my life. It’s good today.
Thank you, Band. Thanks for celebrating with me, and for cheering me on when I needed it.
Embryonically, I had the idea for Band Back Together after my daughter, Amelia, was born and landed in the NICU with an extremely rare neural tube defect called an encephalocele. I’d run multiple-user blogs before; in fact, my first blog was a group project. But the idea of creating a space like this was daunting.
First, I had to figure out what the hell this space was supposed to be. My initial thought was to make it a place for special needs parents. Then I figured that I should add my baby loss and infertile friends into the mix. Then I realized that I was thinking too narrowly. I’ve never limited what I do on my own blog (I don’t, I want you to know, think of this as my own blog. I think of it as yours), so why should I start here?
Band Back Together is a light in the darkness.
Our darkness may not look the same, it may not feel the same, but underneath, we are all the same, and we are all so very good. This space and the community we have created proves it.
I am truly honored to have all of your stories here. I believe in what we’re doing. I believe that each of your stories will touch somebody else who may still be in the dark. I believe that someday, someone will stumble here and find your words, and when they do, they will be moved. They will sit on the other side of the computer monitor, just as you are now, and they will feel the light breaking through the darkness. They will feel hope.
You may not think that what you do is important. You are wrong. You may feel like your story isn’t good; it isn’t enough. You are wrong.
Every word you write connects you to another.
So please, Pranksters, write hard. Help me get our words; our stories to other people. Tell your stories – all of them – and please, help me spread the word about the site. It’s time to take Band Back Together to 11.
December 31, 2009, I wrote this,
So I approach 2010 full of renewed hope for the future, because no matter how full of the darkness I feel, I can feel the light on my face and I know it’s all around me. Soon it will be within me.
I am hopeful.
I have hope.
Happy New Year.
Through you, I have found my light. I was right. It is so, so good.
Thank you for helping me find my light.
A very Happy Thanksgiving to each of you, Pranksters.
Sometimes the only monster we see is when we’re looking into a mirror.
This is her story:
I was controlled by a destructive, angry individual who did everything in their power to destroy the very core of my being.
The sad part is that I allowed it, and not only for a little while … oh no … I allowed this person to eat at me every single day … all day … for years, until there was nothing left but a shell of my former existence. They were mean and hurtful, yelled at my children, they could have cared less about my happiness … their main goal was to make me and everyone around me pay for their misery. They let their selfish need for pride crumble the walls of my life … I was sure there was no way to rid myself of this person … I was trapped … the very thought of ending the darkness they brought was unfathomable.
Murder.
I could simply just kill them.
The thought crossed my mind on more than one occasion … but what little common sense I had left stopped whatever notions that crept into my mind.
To escape this person was to escape my very self.
I was her … she was me, and deep down in her head, buried under the anger and depression was a tiny flicker of light that called out to her … “don’t drive your car off the road … you know better than that.”
The problem was that no matter how deep I analyzed myself, I could come up with not one valid reason to feel this way. What was wrong with me? … why was I spiraling into a hole? What was my problem?
Was it a learned behavior? … it was possible.
Was it genetic? … that was quite possible as well.
One morning I woke up and opened the refrigerator … a tub of margarine fell out and you’d think the world had just ended. My ranting and yelling and crying over something so trivial was ridiculous. Kind of like when my Dad didn’t have enough milk for his cereal in the morning … off he’d go to the store … tires screeching down the driveway … he couldn’t just have a piece of toast or something … no that was too easy … he had to upset the entire household.
I know now after seeing the same behavior in myself that it had nothing to do with the milk, just like it had nothing to do with the margarine. It was a sickness … one that I was passing down to my own children … I was well aware, yet I still refused to do anything about it.
Excuses.
I had a reason for everything.
I’m not getting help because I’m not a failure. I’ll be fine … it’ll go away. I’m not going on medication because I don’t need a crutch! And to hell with gaining any ten or twenty pounds by popping the pills either. Ain’t happening. Instead I chose to make my family walk on egg shells. Instead I chose to stop caring about my health … Instead I chose to put myself at the very bottom of the list.
I was and I still am stubborn.
Thankfully, there is a voice of reason in my life. A voice that knew how I felt … someone who had been where I was … someone who had made his way through the darkness … someone who said, “you don’t have to live this way and the only thing on my wish list is for you to get help.”
I felt like I was giving in … succumbing to failure … and making that phone call was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done.
I thought for sure I was making a huge mistake. The doctor would put me on medication and that would be the end of me. I’d be a fat emotionless entity who drifted through the rest of her life wishing she could just be ‘like everyone else’.
I was given medication … my doctor said, “if you couldn’t see very well, would you not want to wear glasses?” … I filled the prescription … then I made my second mistake and scoured the depression forums like a mad woman trying to find out what was to become of me. The best advice I could ever give a person who’s never taken an SSRI is to stay the hell away from those forums. STAY AWAY. They will scare the living crap out of you.
I took the medication.
Slowly and surely each day was a little brighter. Each day, life became less hectic in my head. I could think … I could breathe and most importantly, I stopped bringing misery to the lives of those nearest and dearest to me.
Today I’m happy … I’m not fat, I didn’t gain the seven thousand pounds I was certain of gaining … I wake up every morning without that nagging rage. If I see a dirty coffee mug sitting on the table, I don’t start the next great war … nor have I lost my ability to emote.
I was wrong about getting help … I couldn’t have been more wrong if I tried.
It hurts me to see people who feel the helplessness that I felt.
