by The Doctor
Such a strange road...
| There was a time, about fourteen years ago, when I was someone here on Writing.Com. I was well known here. I had many friends here. Some of the higher ups would remember me here. And some of the longtime members. I was a preferred author, a gold case. There were talks about being a moderator. I had a large portfolio, did writings with other authors. I was a favorite of so many here. This was back in the early 2000's, a very strange time in life.
I was a musician at the time, had been for almost 15 years. But that life was starting to wind down. Didn't have much left to give, and I was getting to old to be relevant. I had stumbled across Writing.Com in an attempt to find a way to get published. I had written a ton of short stories, and I wanted to put them out. This was a good spot to test and sample them for people. I spent many hours here, and those hours became more and more plentiful.
It was getting to become a necessity, rather than use the site for what I originally planned, it became a social outlet for me. I was on the IM window all the time, talking to others. Making groups and different participation pieces for people. With my music career seeming to face the end, I got desperate for social approval here. At that time, this site was quite friendly, in fact, it was a fertile ground for flirtation and drama. It fed right into the growing mid life crisis I was facing. To the point where I began spending up to 10 hours a day logged in here. What do you suppose happens to someone who becomes obsessed here? You get a bit out of control.
Things got more and more personal here. I met people in person from the site. I spent days with them, I was having an amazing time, but that obsession turned into something unhealthy. Writing.Com was no longer a place to write and express ideas. It became the only thing that mattered, and not in a writing sense because I had stopped writing. It was purely social. It became the replacement for my musical tours. But it turned into bad situation for me. Things were said, arguments ensued, and I ended up dropping most of my portfolio, and stopped talking to many here. I just shut myself off, and I acted like a jerk about it.
So for many years, I disappeared. I never deleted my portfolio, but I never visited it either. At least 8 years passed without me checking in. I dropped it, and it was the right thing to do. I had lost focus and my presence here was nothing but a virtual life, and my real life suffered for it. But I got it all together again. I became a minister. Married a wonderful person. And one day about a year ago I peeked back in here. And when I did, I decided to write a couple of essays on Christ. Got a couple of nice reviews. And now, I feel a need to write again, not to be social here, but to use Writing.Com for what it was MEANT for. To write. To express creativity and thought. And to inspire people through spiritual writings or testimonials.
There is much to do here. And now I hope to accomplish it, and to return to what this place was for. To author writings for others to see. And to tell those reading, don't lose sight of what it is meant to be here. This place is not your life, it is your tool. Use it properly.