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Reflecting on the amazement of 17 years of Writing.com for myself |
I have woken today to check on daily tasks - grabbed a coffee, sat down by the computer, and checking my email. I looke at my daily postal mail screenshots and see that an envelope addressed to me is coming from Writing.Com and wonder why. But then I see an email reading "Happy Account Anniversary.." Inside it reads: "You opened your Writing.Com account 17 years ago, on April 6th, 2006..." Has it really been such a long time? I am so inactive these days that I am amazed they still email from time to time with prompts and reminding me to write. I tend to ignore it, but I do think on it. In the past they've sent little calendars or post cards, and I have held on to them fondly. These little things make me truly feel like an old friend is checking in on me. 17 years ago, the day I created my account, where was I? I was a young person, with a little brother about to be one year old. I cannot remember how I was introduced to Writing.Com in general, but it gave me an outlet for writing, which I had always loved. I was able to express emotions about my surroundings and the way I grew up. To some degree. A few years later I was working in animal sheltering, and it gave me an outlet yet again. I was bombarded by difficulties and sorrow seeing so many cases and so much loss. I was able to create poems as a way to help myself heal from what came to be called "burnout" or "compassion fatigue". I once many years later wrote about my feelings regarding religion in a simple way, at the time having that religion in my heart enough to be inspired. Though it left me, I maintained my writing until now, where I simply put it into my recycling bin. I once tried my hand at a poll - though no responses, I had fun creating one for the first time. I wrote about the rooster we used to have, at the time still on the farm, and created a short poem as I tried to get back into writing. And here, wow, I had forgotten that I dedicated a short poem to one of the beautiful bird species that visits us called a Summer Tanager. I am now inspired to maybe create poetry or short writings on my favorite wild animals. I later changed my account name at some point. I believe I used to be "RaynMaker" or something like that back when I more despised my real name as a kid and struggled to find alternate nicknames like Rayn for people to call me. When I changed it, I made it about my current enviornment. My entire life has changed since my first days of Writing.Com, yet the website has never forgotten me. I feel a tad guilty, checking in maybe once a year while it continues to see how I am and encourage me by emailing or sending old fashioned snail-mail. But I feel this sense of joy during a tough time, knowing it has been there through many events. I've graduated high school, had a handful of jobs, married, lived on a little homestead, rescued animals, and so much more. Writing.Com - I thank you for sticking with me for 17 years and encouraging me to write. Even if not a single person ever reads it, I am deeply appreciative for this place. Our relationship is in its adulthood, to my disbelief. But again, a simple thank you, for your emails and the other things you send truly make me happy. |