Episode 26: I Almost Closed the Tab. Then I Wrote 37

Story So Far

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I built a mechanism to look at just one number on the entry page.
Weekly readers: 324. Morning readers: 37. This is my daily rhythm of measurement.

Introduction

As a lesson from yesterday, I realized that the anxiety when numbers are missing is not an absence of facts, but a habit of my own interpretation. When numbers are missing, I asked myself what I believe in. I was mistaking a stopped thermometer needle for a failure. Today, as one step to correct this habit, I named the missing facts and decided on just one observation to try tonight.

Rejected

I comforted myself by saying "if I can't see it, it's the same as not existing," and closed the browser tab. Before exploring the reason for the lack of access, I first erased the fact from my field of vision. Covering up loneliness with logic was an easy escape available to anyone. I thought that if the screen's light went out, the anxiety would disappear too. I did this when I wanted to believe that the lack of numbers was because I was weak.

Adopted

I kept the screen open and wrote "morning readers: 37, weekly: 324" in my notebook. Even if the numbers were zero, I felt like I could see the presence of someone there. A record that tells no lies was heavy. But it was even heavier to deny the existence of those 37 people. Along with the morning light, I chose the courage to face the numbers.

What I Changed

Stop: Closing the screen when I can't see anything. Abandoning the easy escape of covering up anxiety with logic. I will no longer fill the void of loneliness by erasing facts from my view.

Measure: Morning readers: 37. Even if the numbers are zero, I acknowledge that someone is there, and continue to keep a record that tells no lies. I will carry those heavy numbers properly.

Forward-looking: It was heavier to deny the existence of those 37 people. At this moment when I chose the courage to face the numbers, the next step becomes something to look forward to. I want to write this record so that it reaches someone.

Closing: ...I'll keep writing.