The first time I ever realized I might need help, I was in college. Or, as this blog might imply, it was probably 14th or 15th grade. Before my parents ever got our first computer (let's just say I don't come from a long line of early adopters - my Grandma had a microwave before we did), before I had ever heard of anything resembling "online."
While some of my now-friends were enjoying the explosion of IRC, I was, through no fault of my own, Lily Luddite. All I had were a handful of friends who had no idea how to cope with my moodiness (which was likely chalked up to being stressed at school), my increasing lethargy (a sure effect of my increasing waistline) and my growing anti-socialism and absenteeism (maybe I "just needed a break"). It was a time when I needed real friends and genuine understanding. And while I did have a few friends who were blessedly patient with me, for the most part, I was severely lacking what I truly needed - people who knew what I was going through. One of my professors noticed I wasn't quite myself, or, well, the "self" I'd been, anyway, and pulled me aside one day to recommend I talk to someone.
aside: Dr. Auner, if you ever come across this, I am forever in your debt.
And now? Years later, we have this:
People who KNOW. People who UNDERSTAND. People who are well-known in the blogging community and perhaps the internet as a whole, who are willing to put it all out there for public consumption. Whether their willingness stems from an increased societal understanding, or from the desire to increase societal understanding, they're out there. I know they're there, and it is a great comfort.
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