I try not to care about things, so aside from misplacing my car keys and my cell phone checks people may have written to me in the olden days and even sometimes my shoes on a regular basis, losing things isn’t too much of an annoyance, with two exceptions.
1. My cat. (See previous post.) I am still both heartbroken and (trying to) holding on to hope for Mowgli.
2. A couple of years of my life.
Here is the story. One day I got a warning about malware on my blog. I immediately took it down and consulted with my friend who hosts my blog. She worked to clean it up, but it was more work than she had anticipated and she eventually sent me what I thought were backup files and told me I was good to go. Because this web/IT thing isn’t my thing, I was a bit lost as to how to restore my former content, and, thinking it was still existing in some files in my email, went about blogging again to my heart’s content.
Time passed. Time passes in quantities of years while I avoid things that intimidate me. Eventually I dug around in my email and realized that the backup isn’t files, it was just a code to revert to something in wordpress that I assume once housed about a year and a half (or more–because it is too sad and overwhelming for me to think about, I have avoided determining just how much is lost) of my life.
That wouldn’t have even been an issue so much because several of my friends had all my content in archived, if you will, in Google Reader. But Google threw us all under the bus (for which I will never forgive them) and even though we signed up for new “reader” apps we learned too late that all the content in Google Reader disappeared and the new readers didn’t access past posts, and all was lost.
The sadness and sense of loss I generally protect myself from gets too close to home every time I search my blog for details of a memory I can’t quite recall but which I know I wrote about once and my search for it comes up empty. Where this comes full circle for me is when I wrote about Mowgli the other day and I clicked on the “that darn cat” tag and realized that all my cat posts are missing. I must tell you that my cat posts may be some of my favorite and best posts and now they are as gone as my cat (which I am feeling far less cavalier about than I sound).
I’m sure 90% of my blog insignificant and is probably no big loss. But I know there is a good 10% that is essentially written witness to my life and a view into my heart that often seems (to me at least) lost on anyone else. And losing that feels (to me at least) like losing a part of myself.
It hurts me more than a little, so I try not to think about it unless I really have to. Like just now with this prompt.
Post edit: Curiosity got the best of me (I should have known better), and I checked. I lost much more than a year or two: September 2007 to November 2012. Let’s try not to think about this too much as I’m feeling more than a little gut-punched right now. hashtag: I need a hero.
[Day 11 of Ann Dee Ellis’ 8-Minute Memoir]