We constantly change. And as much as I
would love to do what I usually do after a
BlogHer conference, which
is to write a humorous post, I find myself being pulled instead to
tell what this annual conference has come to mean.
Bloggers attending this conference joke
about coming back home, we call this “re-entry”. When the
perfection of days among your people leave you wanting more of it
when you get back home. It's hard to settle for the day to day after
you've had Disneyland for grown ups. The laughter, good food, parties and dinners with friends,
keynote speakers that are celebrities, and workshops, panels,
presentations all feeding us more of what we love to talk about most:
our blogging. It's hard to go home to grocery runs, laundry duty, carpool schedules and no one serving us coffee when you've experienced the world's largest social
media conference for women. You don't want what you've had, to end. You don't want who you are when there, to disappear again.
There is no such thing as a
perfect experience, but these four days spent with kindred spirits
who love to do what I do, which is to put our words together and send
them out into the internet, comes pretty close.
I have been writing my words, my
stories, since I learned how to print. Before then, I would whisper
my stories into my dolls' ears while I held them, falling asleep. I
would listen to my Abuela tell her stories and knew that some day, I
wanted to do the same. To learn to weave my words into a dance.
Standing together, we shared her worn wooden cutting board, chopping the onion we needed for dinner, and I would be lulled into the expanse of the rise and fall of the waves of my grandmother's voice.
At my first BlogHer five years ago, I
arrived with preconceptions about the conference and its attendees. I
was worried I wouldn't fit among them, I was too nervous to think
beyond how an introvert would survive four days with strangers while
states away from home. I attended every workshop and I went to every
party. I concentrated so hard in absorbing everything that BlogHer
offered that I forgot to think about saying hello.
A conference was
about air fare, hotel fees, arranging child care, and making the four days you had there
count. I was at an actual conference, my first one in 15 years since
I had stopped working full time and I was determined to return home,
armed and ready to tackle my dreams. Instead, I was among people, so
many people, and who are these people? On my last night at this first
conference, I sat outside of the hotel on the San Diego marina and
tried to hear my grandmother's voice in the lapping moonlit waves that rose
and fell. Blogging had allowed me to call myself a writer. I was
here, to be exposed to different styles of writing. And there were so
many here, like me, did we all want the same thing?
At that first conference, I met a
writer named Polly Pagenhart. She wrote in the style that I aspired
to — she spoke in the voice of what I had grown up hearing.
Stinging in its honesty, and in the naked style of truth. I had only
heard a style like this once before, and that was in my own family.
Polly's stories were hands up and life out loud. Chest open wide and
arms taking it all in. Her stories were no exaggerated version. I
know, because I had been hearing this style my entire life. It's a
voice that makes for great storytellers. I had been living without
hearing the voice of my grandmother for a very long time, but here I
was, in San Diego at a BlogHer conference, and feeling like home
again.
I came home from my first BlogHer
conference, heavily influenced by the people I had met and the panels
I had attended. I thought of my career goals. I flew back home on the
plane, unable to settle into my seat, because I never thought that I
would find people like me.
I was at my second BlogHer, looking for
more ways to grow into what I hoped would bring me what I then
thought I wanted. This time, I was in New York, and I ticked off
activities and get-togethers, cobbling together and leaving only time
enough to sleep. I was determined to find a way to see my stories
published. Again, my intent was to learn and absorb.
On my third BlogHer conference in
Chicago, I had come feeling more prepared. I was going to tackle the
technical side of what I felt I needed to know, Search Engine
Optimization, Coding, Pinterest, Google Plus, maybe even learn about
video. Could I self publish? All of this was offered, and all of
this, I took in.
Last year, my fourth BlogHer, I arrived
for the first time feeling that I had something I could offer. In the
five years since I first began blogging, I had learned that
technique, technology, networking, tips, tricks, and contacts are all
lost in the wind without the most important net that pulls everything
together.
That of belief in your words. It was this realization that
I wanted to share with the conference that had given so much to me
over the past four years. I was given the incredible honor of saying
exactly those words of encouragement, and gratitude, as a
keynote speaker for BlogHer's 10th year anniversary. The moment I
had on stage being part of celebrating what BlogHer has accomplished,
remains one that is surreal.
We constantly change. We are dynamic,
not permanent or unaffected by our world. We are works in progress.
And our lives are something we look at from the stance of moments
that have passed. Our experiences are our process, and the people we
see and meet are all part of what shapes us. Just as Polly did with
me from that first BlogHer meeting five years ago.
It's been over five years that I've
been writing on my blog. Some days I fear that I'll run out of the
gift, the quickness of words that fly off my fingers. I had a dream
once. I was unable to recognize the shapes of letters and I couldn't
understand what I was looking at on the pages of a book. It left me
terrified.
I arrived this year at BlogHer, my
fifth conference, with an appreciation of what I can do. Once, I
thought that anyone could write, and keep doing it. You just had to
sit and type. But BlogHer has fostered a respect for myself and an
awe, for what I do. I do something and have persevered at something,
and this is what gives me my good days. I began BlogHer conferences wanting to
learn how to write. I never imagined the trail would lead to
recognizing that I had achieved the dream I had so cautiously wished
for myself when I was four years old and held my dolls as I fell
asleep.
At the closing party for this year's BlogHer, I sat on the pier, inhaling deeply of the night air. On either side of me was an amazing,
intelligent, generous woman. As the sun set, I listened to the waves rise and fall, much
like my Abuela's voice so many years ago. It was so much like what
these six years with BlogHer have been. Stirring, moving, calming and
powerful, water so deep and beautiful, and part of an evening that
was as close to perfect as you can get.
BlogHer, thank you for reminding me why
I write, and for motivating me to keep on writing. Thank you for
holding the mirror of confidence in front of me, the one I have never seen before this
year. One that reflects back what I have always hoped to see, the face of a
writer.
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