Thanks, Heather

I don’t blog much but today, it seems appropriate.

We lost Heather B. Armstrong (Dooce). And while I have a thousand thoughts in my head after typing that sentence, they’re confusing, disjointed, and complex. I guess that makes sense – Heather could be all of those things at any given moment. She was also a huge part of my blog life, though she certainly didn’t know it.

I knew her. She knew me. We’ve talked at BlogHer. We’ve talked on Twitter and blog post comments. We didn’t have much in common beyond blogging, kids, and the tendency to tell people things they don’t like to hear. With the thousands of blogs I read every day for YEARS, you might not think hers was one of the first I’d read in the morning – but it was. I have so many reasons to thank her – some silly, some not silly at all. Here are some of those…

Heather introduced me to the amazing Flor carpet tiles – and then I won 30 tiles. I had no idea my young dog (Skeeter) would decide they were dog toys and chew the shit out of them. I put them away and brought them out again after we moved to Florida – surely my dogs, (five years older) would not chew them since by then they didn’t really chew shit they shouldn’t (except for people food and sticks and chickens.) Alas, someone (BUSTER YOU ASSHAT) decided that peeing on them was exactly what he needed to do. Often. And while they are washable, they aren’t that MFing washable. I still have them and hope someday I can enjoy them. Without chewing or peeing.

In like 2009ish, TW was doing an Influencer thing with Home Goods and they gave her a gift card to go shopping. When we talked about what we’d like to buy… we both thought about those quirky dog statues you used to be able to “buy” on Wheel of Fortune back when you shopped with your winnings (why did they stop doing that? That was the best part of the show. Get rid of Pat, and bring back the damn shopping). Unfortunately, Home Goods did not have any of those types of dogs but they DID have this one. His name is Chuck (IYKYK). He’s been through a lot over the last 15 years but he’s still (mostly) standing. I talk to him often and ALWAYS think of his namesake and of Heather.

At some point after Johnny Mac Pippin was born, Heather blogged about having an oil painting done by Paul Ferney as part of a Commission Project he was starting. You could send him a photo and he’d paint it in oil and frame it for you. It was a wee bit expensive but not out of my price range. I thought it would be a fabulous Christmas gift for my mom – so I sent Pippin’s photo and ordered it. And then I ordered another the next year with the idea that I’d send a new one to my mom every Christmas and she’d send me the one she’d had all year. When she sent me the next one, I’d give the one I’d had all year to Jenn. Rinse and repeat and ultimately, Jenn would have them all.

Paul stopped doing the commission project paintings but by then, it was tradition so I found another painter and the series goes on with paintings of Squishy Doodle and Baby Evergreen now. Every damn Christmas my mother threatens to keep the one she’s had all year and every year I think I’m going to have to drive up there and retrieve my damn painting. It’s a great tradition – I highly recommend it. Thanks to Heather for getting us started. I never would have thought of doing this on my own.

Now onto the big stuff. The thing I’m most thankful to Heather for.

Because I read, and commented on, and promoted blogs all day long, every day, for many many years – I clung to the blogs that ALWAYS left me feeling something.

Whether it was a gorgeous photo, a birthday letter to her children, a ridiculous post about The Former Congressman, Chuck (whose death I admit to crying over for a very, very long time), growing up in the Mormon church, or her honest and raw posts about post-partum depression – I often didn’t agree with Heather or understand where she was coming from, but I always left her blog feeling something. Not all bloggers can do that – not even the very good bloggers or the very successful bloggers. Heather had that gift, (or curse?)

I cannot imagine how difficult it was to be Heather B. Armstrong. How difficult it was to try to live her life, raise her children, do her job, manage her depression, and deal with the horrifying hatred coming from people who participated in sites that I won’t name. She was so strong, even when she broke. I admired that strength. I admired her ability to keep telling her story. I admired her ability to keep going.

And here’s where I struggle – I don’t want to end this without mentioning how difficult it was to read Dooce, particularly in recent years. Heather made mistakes. She hurt people. She was not a perfect person. I don’t want to talk about Heather or look back on her legacy – yes, legacy – with rose-colored glasses, but I also am not interested in re-hashing … anything that’s happened before. I told her what I thought, while she was still here. That’s enough.

We’ve lost someone who changed more lives than she knew, read this insightful piece for more about that.

Thanks, Heather. Thanks for all of it.