This is my daughter’s favorite thing to say to me, and it is often apt.
I make missteps socially, I always have. I’ve made technological mistakes that have hurt others: some of which I cannot talk about here, but an example:
I didn’t understand until last night that I had a Twitter spam application stuck to my account, and it was sending auto-emails basically calling out people who unfollowed me.
I mean, how obnoxious! And embarrassing. Doh.
So that’s technology getting in the way. (Sometimes I send texts to the wrong person, too.)
But here’s where we get to the disturbing truth: technology isn’t always behind my fuck-ups. Sometimes I leave horrid comments. I’m sort of a blunt contrarian and I don’t read people very well. Often when bloggers have positioned themselves as an authority on something or as an expert about a topic, I have questioned them about it. I’m not talking about writers who are professionals in their fields, like a nutritionist or a professional chef or a psychologist. I’m talking about bloggers sharing advice. Sometimes, I’ve disagreed. Harshly.
I’ve been regretting this the more I read about the MckMama scandal. I think blogging has lead to an extreme emphasis on the “authentic” and a disturbing movement toward readers thinking they “know” a person just because they have read some of their innermost thoughts and feelings.
We don’t know bloggers, not truly.
Advice I’m going to try to follow from now on: if I don’t agree, I’ll click away.
But there’s something even worse than my comments of critical dissent. I’ve consoled or supported people in the wrong way, those suffering from loss or pain. This post is a must-read from Mommy Odyssey.
I am so sorry that I have hurt you when you were just trying to put forth something of your own into the world or seek support. I know I have done this. I own that.
My daughter’s right: sometimes, I just do it wrong.