new year, new moniker
Dec. 31st, 2024 10:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lezziebennet
I've always been vaguely disdainful of people who journal online. It's snobby of me, I know, but every time I see someone post into the void on Tumblr or even Lex, I want to go BOOO GET A JOURNAL.
The thing is, I have a journal. I'm an active journaller. But I still have the urge to post into the void. There's something risky and exciting and more vulnerable about cultivating a slightly more public facing journal online. A blog, in the original sense: a web log.
I want to use this space, away from anyone I know in person or online, to really think about who I am and who I want to be. Avoidant? Maybe. Maybe that's why I've decided to call myself Soledad here, a name I've never used before.
Soledad means solitude in Spanish. One Hundred Years of Solitude is the English title of the novel known in Spanish as Cien años de soledad. I read Cien años when I was 19, and the prose thrilled me. It motivated me to get good at Spanish. A couple years later, while living in Mexico, my host mom remarked that "Soledad" had always seemed like a depressing kind of name to her. Her husband responded, no, he liked the name, he thought it was pretty and feminine.
Growing up, no one could have called me pretty or feminine, even though I am a cis girl. I was a leggy, frizzy-haired tomboy, weird and offputting and a bummer. Now I've embraced it--I'm proudly autistic, mentally ill, disabled, hairy, dykey. I do identify as a cis woman, but this year, I found myself intensely wishing to call myself anything other than my government name. I don't hate my name, I like that it works in both Spanish and English, but I'm not super attached to it. And I was sort of envious that my twin, who's trans, got to change his name, while I'm stuck with one that doesn't particularly feel like me.
So yeah. Here, I can be Soledad. I don't think I'll ever use the name IRL--it's sort of clunky and old-fashioned, it would be annoying for English speakers--but here, in my solitude, I can call myself whatever I want. I like that Soledad has the syllable "Sol" in it--sun--and it means something interesting, something I love, maybe too much.
This year, though, I would like to isolate myself a little less. I recently quit the teaching job where I had to mask so intensely that I relished each moment of solitude, withdrawing into my room for most of the time I wasn't at work. Too drained for in-person friendships, I poured myself into online fandom. And though I do believe the fan spaces I was involved in on Discord and Tumblr were healthy overall, those eventually stressed me out just as much as my job. I felt like I had to offer emotional support to all my friends there, despite feeling so burned out myself that I might as well have been cheese at the bottom of the quesadilla pan. I couldn't leave my roleplay partners hanging, I had to write fics and draw art for people, I had to leave thoughtful comments on everything everyone made so no one felt left out, and I had to respond to everything immediately. And if I myself was feeling left out, then that was my own fault. I shouldn't expect so much of people who are also just doing this for fun. If I admit that anything about the pacing of this online space feels off, then that's like admitting online friends aren't as good as offline ones. Betrayal! Don't let the neurotypicals hear you! And you're in love with the person whose OC is dating your OC? Geez, that's awfully inconvenient. Must mean you're confusing reality with fiction!
I scaled back. I turned off notifications, turned off my activity on Discord, left a couple servers, let everyone know I'd be less active. But eventually, I couldn't take it, and one night, I quietly deleted Tumblr and Discord from my phone, logged out on my desktop. The next few days felt blissfully quiet. Finally, finally, I was alone.
The burnout's getting better, but the more I heal, the less I want to go back to those spaces. I made many wonderful friends. But keeping up with them individually feels unnatural, and my brain can't handle the frenetic pace and endless awkwardness of even small servers. The person I fell (queerplatonically) in love with remains a dear friend, but I no longer feel like I'm constantly craving their attention. I log on and feel a twinge as I watch the people I care about continue to have fun together, but I don't feel any desire to hop back on the treadmill of likes and comments and kudos and reblogs.
There's an article I read ages ago about One Hundred Years of Solitude that says that the novel proposes an alternative to solitude, which is solidarity. The words are similar in Spanish too--soledad, solidaridad. I am hoping to cultivate intentional solitude here as Soledad. To admit things here in a semi-public-but-still-anonymous space to practice opening up to people in my life, to move from that safe solitude to solidarity.
That is probably optimistic, and too tidy of a conclusion. I give myself permission for things to progress less linearly. But I'm excited to do some old-school blogging. If you somehow found this, thanks for reading and stick around :D
The thing is, I have a journal. I'm an active journaller. But I still have the urge to post into the void. There's something risky and exciting and more vulnerable about cultivating a slightly more public facing journal online. A blog, in the original sense: a web log.
I want to use this space, away from anyone I know in person or online, to really think about who I am and who I want to be. Avoidant? Maybe. Maybe that's why I've decided to call myself Soledad here, a name I've never used before.
Soledad means solitude in Spanish. One Hundred Years of Solitude is the English title of the novel known in Spanish as Cien años de soledad. I read Cien años when I was 19, and the prose thrilled me. It motivated me to get good at Spanish. A couple years later, while living in Mexico, my host mom remarked that "Soledad" had always seemed like a depressing kind of name to her. Her husband responded, no, he liked the name, he thought it was pretty and feminine.
Growing up, no one could have called me pretty or feminine, even though I am a cis girl. I was a leggy, frizzy-haired tomboy, weird and offputting and a bummer. Now I've embraced it--I'm proudly autistic, mentally ill, disabled, hairy, dykey. I do identify as a cis woman, but this year, I found myself intensely wishing to call myself anything other than my government name. I don't hate my name, I like that it works in both Spanish and English, but I'm not super attached to it. And I was sort of envious that my twin, who's trans, got to change his name, while I'm stuck with one that doesn't particularly feel like me.
So yeah. Here, I can be Soledad. I don't think I'll ever use the name IRL--it's sort of clunky and old-fashioned, it would be annoying for English speakers--but here, in my solitude, I can call myself whatever I want. I like that Soledad has the syllable "Sol" in it--sun--and it means something interesting, something I love, maybe too much.
This year, though, I would like to isolate myself a little less. I recently quit the teaching job where I had to mask so intensely that I relished each moment of solitude, withdrawing into my room for most of the time I wasn't at work. Too drained for in-person friendships, I poured myself into online fandom. And though I do believe the fan spaces I was involved in on Discord and Tumblr were healthy overall, those eventually stressed me out just as much as my job. I felt like I had to offer emotional support to all my friends there, despite feeling so burned out myself that I might as well have been cheese at the bottom of the quesadilla pan. I couldn't leave my roleplay partners hanging, I had to write fics and draw art for people, I had to leave thoughtful comments on everything everyone made so no one felt left out, and I had to respond to everything immediately. And if I myself was feeling left out, then that was my own fault. I shouldn't expect so much of people who are also just doing this for fun. If I admit that anything about the pacing of this online space feels off, then that's like admitting online friends aren't as good as offline ones. Betrayal! Don't let the neurotypicals hear you! And you're in love with the person whose OC is dating your OC? Geez, that's awfully inconvenient. Must mean you're confusing reality with fiction!
I scaled back. I turned off notifications, turned off my activity on Discord, left a couple servers, let everyone know I'd be less active. But eventually, I couldn't take it, and one night, I quietly deleted Tumblr and Discord from my phone, logged out on my desktop. The next few days felt blissfully quiet. Finally, finally, I was alone.
The burnout's getting better, but the more I heal, the less I want to go back to those spaces. I made many wonderful friends. But keeping up with them individually feels unnatural, and my brain can't handle the frenetic pace and endless awkwardness of even small servers. The person I fell (queerplatonically) in love with remains a dear friend, but I no longer feel like I'm constantly craving their attention. I log on and feel a twinge as I watch the people I care about continue to have fun together, but I don't feel any desire to hop back on the treadmill of likes and comments and kudos and reblogs.
There's an article I read ages ago about One Hundred Years of Solitude that says that the novel proposes an alternative to solitude, which is solidarity. The words are similar in Spanish too--soledad, solidaridad. I am hoping to cultivate intentional solitude here as Soledad. To admit things here in a semi-public-but-still-anonymous space to practice opening up to people in my life, to move from that safe solitude to solidarity.
That is probably optimistic, and too tidy of a conclusion. I give myself permission for things to progress less linearly. But I'm excited to do some old-school blogging. If you somehow found this, thanks for reading and stick around :D
How do you do?
Date: 2025-01-17 06:21 am (UTC)So, as I progress along my own track, I might look over and and wave every so often.