one year chip, one month overdue

Alcoholics Anonymous has the one year chip. Recovering addicts earn it when they have reached one full year of sobriety.

While we may not get a chip, per se, bloggers do celebrate one year of blogging, aka the blogaversary. And instead of recognizing the giving up of an addiction, the blogaversary heralds the survival of one.

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For someone who had her first whim to start a blog on December 27 and then started the blog on December 27, I say "not bad." One month late in posting my one year anniversary? Par for the course. My course, that is.

When alcoholics reach their one year mark, it is a tremendous accomplishment. It means they have given up more than liquid spirits. Often they have let go of cherished activities and social events involving alcohol in order to stick to their goal. Sometimes leaving friends behind.

Similarly, blogging is not without its sacrifices. I have had to give up cherished activities, too: tidying the house, doing laundry, going to the gym, cleaning out my car, keeping faith with the yoga, keeping up with the taxes.

The AA one year chip is considered a high risk for substance abuse relapse. For letting down one's guard and falling off the wagon. Letting a year's worth of hard work slide, by popping a top and throwing back a cold one. Or two. Or twenty-two.

What happens when bloggers reach their one year mark? What are the trends? The risks?

Reaching for one too many prickly pear margaritas due to dwindling coping skills?

Out of control consumption of mass quantities of barbeque?

Delusional recollections of cowboy hats atop bare nekkid models?

Watching one too many sex videos for real women (and their partners)?

Maybe it's more subtle than all that.

Maybe it looks more like stacks of unread books. Low back pain from too many hours huddled over laptop keyboards. Night owls returning home to roost. Social rejection due to unsightly neglected leg hair. Trampled feelings of unsuspecting spouses astride the four horsemen of marriage. Folding laundry in the therapist parking lot. Hugging trees., even.

Do one year old bloggers think they should go back to their lives of pre-blogging alienation, ignorance and sloth? Caving in to such self defeating thoughts as, "I can't keep up this pace", "Who do I think I'm kidding? My writing sucks!" or, "Give it up. I'm no good at follow through." ? (Nor, it would seem, good at complex punctuation).

Take for example my habit of reading someone's excellent blog post, or being tagged for a meme. I feel immediately inspired. I start a post-in-reply. But.... sigh... interruptions, phone calls, children screeching, dinner burning ... I don't finish it. Like, ever.

I see the unfinished post in my drafts folder weeks or months later and think, "Aw hell, now it's too late to post."

Or is it? When I get around to finishing them and giving proper linkage, I'll let you decide. Or not. Only time (management) will tell.

I do know this. Like the addicts first taste of a bitter brew, I started my blog with very little idea of what I was getting into. I had thought this blog was merely a pilot, a trial run, an expedition toward professional goals. Yes, I had hoped to connect with fellow psychologists, and I did, some from as far away as New York and Australia, make that two from Australia. But little did I know that this social addiction awaited me. Little did I know I would stumble upon an engaging and welcoming community of writers, moms and friends:

Writers who showcase London, writers who showcase their dogs. Writers walking the sunny side of the street.

I've gotten to know writing moms awaiting transit, juggling moms, and hip moms.

Moms with law degrees, moms serving hawt green beans while studying to become a lawyer.

Moms who compare, moms who keep the home fires burning, moms wearing black fishnets

and moms with secret boyfriends; moms pretending things are normal (aren't we all?), and moms pretending things are normal while recovering from an affair; hot flushing moms emptying their nests; moms in mighty crisis , moms passing zoloft, moms drinking merlot, moms serving up cornbread, moms doing art, and moms knitting sweaters.

I've gotten to know women in pursuit, women mentally pausing; mad madges and musing magpies, reluctant bloggers and feminists; Photographers, therapists, massage therapists, psychotherapists, and actors seeing therapists (who let us watch).

I've met teachers who drink (shouldn't they all?), teachers who hang out in the apathy lounge, teacher who travel and teachers who live in Japan.

And then there's what makes it all worthwhile: the spice. Real live lesbians, lesbians on the rocks, sex working sluts, uniting queers, and activist trans. Thank you, one and all.

There are more, of course, to include a man or two (gasp!), but I'm running out of link patience. And running out of time. If you can't tell, this post has been the motherlode of binging and linking. And running out of excuses as to why those three baskets of unfolded laundry are taking over my bedroom.

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But before I close, I want to say how much fun I've had, how much I've enjoyed laughing, smirking, giggling, and wincing in solidarity. And how much I appreciate all the comments, encouragement, links, awards, and acknowledgements. Thanks for making my first year the certainty of many more to come.