Signing off
This is weird.
I don’t know what to say in a last blog post, because it makes it seem like a black hole is going to open up and suck me into it once I hit “publish.” (I really hope that doesn’t happen, because I still need to shower. I’d hate to be stuck in some Interstellar purgatory and have yesterday’s hair.)
Emotions are all over the place today. I keep thinking, “happy birthday, blog!” because today marks fourteen years of writing online. “Blessed” feels like an overused hashtag. “Excited” seems like a weird emotion for the end of something I love(d), but it might be the closest word that covers it. I’m really excited to have spent these years writing here. And I’m excited about what’s coming, my brain suddenly electric and sparking with possibilities that I’ve had tooling around up there for years but haven’t had the time to put to paper.
Now is that time.
Some of what’s percolating is related to diabetes, thanks in large part to the pervasive and incurable thing that is type 1, but I’ll discover different places and way to say it. I have some projects in the pipeline that should see the light of day by the middle of the summer, and others that have a longer tail. (Tale?)
Some of it isn’t related at all to a busted pancreas. I know I have several books inside of me trying to get out, and they’ve been giving me internal paper cuts for years. I’m ready to write those, too.
I’m just so damn grateful to have shared these years with you all. From the day I posted my first blog post back in 2005, I’ve been trying to figure out what this site would be, what it would mean. I didn’t know what a blog was and the word tasted weird but hey, why not write about personal health information on the Internet? I remember learning HTML and CSS so I could build the site out. I learned how to code, even remedially, because it cost too much to hire a webdesigner. I wrote my heart out, and double-spaced after each period (and will FOREVER).
My then-boyfriend read it. And my mom read it. And two of my friends read it. But then two other people found it. And I found a handful of others. And I wasn’t alone with diabetes anymore.
This community was exactly what I didn’t know I needed.
I scroll through these pages, reading some of the older stories, and I’m really proud to be part of a community that shares like this. One that feels like this. One that loves like this. My blog has been online for fourteen years, but it hasn’t been alone. The best part of being a “diabetes blogger” has been being part of the diabetes community. Each one of you who shares your story, any story, is making a difference and that cannot be overstated. What I’ve learned from this community has been nothing short of life-saving. Stories matter, even the smallest ones.
Tell yours. And as our community grows, remain true to the mission of taking care of one another.
Going forward for SUM, this post will stay on the front page for a week or two, and then I’ll shuffle it along in favor of a landing page that will introduce new readers and old friends to the site. Over the next few weeks, I’ll be moving all 14 years of posts to this archive, and I’ll switch the comments off at that time. This site will be maintained going forward, but in that overgrown, never-mowed lawn sort of way.
In the meantime, I have no plans to be sucked into an abyss of any kind. You can still email me at kerri (at) sixuntilme DOT com. I’ll be on Twitter and Facebook and Instagram as time and desire allows, and I’ll still be involved in events and speaking engagements. (There’s a rumor about a podcast but that’s unfounded as of yet.) This blog will remain archived and readable. I’ll still be reading your stuff. And I’ll have a new URL that will go live in a few months, but more on that when the time feels right.
You can’t shake me that easily.
I’m all emotional and messy at the moment, like I’m signing off from the world forever, which is going to make it even weirder when I post something random to Instagram tomorrow. (Checks to make sure the abyss hole isn’t forming in the wall behind me.) For someone who has had little trouble writing 500 word blog posts five times a week for the better part of fourteen years, I’m flailing at the moment. This is intensely weird.
To you, the people who have been reading here since whenever you found me – thank you. Thank you for giving me purpose in this way. Thank you for making time to be part of my life. Thank you for letting me be part of yours. And thank you for your continued support in whatever’s next.
To say “I love you” wouldn’t feel wrong.
So I love you.
Thanks for every last bit of all of this.
