#153

     I have enjoyed blogging much more than I thought I would. I can write and post a blog whenever I want, where ever I want, day or night, summer or winter, right or wrong. The cathartic effect of blogging is similar to that of journalling and therefore very good for my mental health. Before I met my husband I had journalled (which is not a word according to Blogger, but then neither is blog according to Blogger) for over twenty years. These books I keep in a very special Korean chest and this box is possibly the third most important thing that I would drag from our house if it were on fire, (My daughters being the first two of course.) Memories like the ones contained in those journals can never be replaced or even recalled at times by my almost fifty-nine year old brain.
     Paper, pens, photos, books, cheques even concert tickets and boarding passes are being replaced by temporary screen views saved to clouds and other forms of data storage. Children are being asked not to learn hand-writing while almost everyone has found ways to avoid buying postage stamps. The hand written journal is now almost certainly a rarity. And here am I writing this on a gray, rainy Saturday afternoon as a way to avoid vacuuming.
     The camaraderie and sense of community that I have derived from publishing these posts, meeting other parents who have kids with epilepsy or an intellectual disability on Facebook, emails or texts exchanged in advocating for our special-needs daughter have all been so beneficial to me and therefore to my family. I have learned so much about learning disorders and epilepsy from very many people; parents, kids, teachers, aides, advocates and doctors have all been so generous with their own knowledge, experiences, struggles and achievements. Not to mention that we have probably saved thousands on therapy thanks to this very blog, if not this post, post number one hundred and fifty-three.