comments

Bloggers love and hate comments. Comments are often the validation that we’re all looking for, and, almost as often, can be like a dagger through the heart (or an axe in your back). I’ve had dozens of people ask me the same question:

How do you deal with the hateful comments. Don’t they bother you?

No, they don’t, and they shouldn’t bother you either.

Have you ever accidentally cut someone off it traffic only to have them honk at you, drive past, sneer and flip you the bird? Have they ever rolled down a window to yell and scream at you, and then skidded off leaving only a trail of burned rubber behind?

When I was younger I might have reacted to the driver with road rage. I might have sped after them, or cut them off again, I might have played dangerous games of chicken while my adrenaline surged.

I’m wiser now, and I’m a fairly courteous driver. I see road rage around me, and it leaves me unaffected. Road rage is just like comments.

If you haven’t been in my home your angry comments can’t hurt me. I look at them, and I envision you speeding past me on the 405 with your middle finger hanging out your car window. I think of you alone in a car headed nowhere quickly. Even when the comments are not anonymous, they’re not likely to be words that would be said to my face.

I’ve promised myself that every time I read an annoying comment, I’ll just imagine who is it behind the computer, and more often that not contempt fades to pity, or even worse apathy. I don’t care that they exist. I honestly see no value in their words. None.

Conversely, if I’ve been out of line, and someone from my inner-circle leaves a comment letting me know that I’ve been hurtful, crude or mean, those are wonderful comments to get. Thank you for saving me from general assholery. It’s good when your girlfriends help you become a better person.