For the past couple of years, I have participated on a cycling forum called Road Bike Review. Specifically, the forum I stayed in the most was called The Lounge. I was drawn to it because of a desire to learn about cycling but I remained in it because of the passion, intelligence and compassion of the people who participated there. This was a community of men and women dedicated to the sport of cycling yet the came from all walks of life, religious persuasion, and political affiliations. They listened, truly listened to each other and respected each other’s ideas even if they ultimately didn’t agree.
The thing that captivated me about them in the beginning was how much they cared about people they had never met. They would take time to respond to the concerns of the members and give very thoughtful replies. I remember thinking, “this is an internet forum of complete strangers, yet they show more love and respect for their fellow man/woman than most people do in their face to face lives”. And I was enchanted by them.
I came to know all the characters by they way they wrote and the stories they wove. And I fell in love with them all. And then I told them my darkest secrets. Some of them couldn’t handle it, but those that could became some of the best friends I have ever had. I joined their private group and got to know them even better. They never disappointed me.
What they did for me was to help me become strong. By their acceptance and mirroring for me the type of person I want to be, I was able to try on different new identities, to discard what didn’t work and to keep what did. I was able to do that feeling safe and accepted. Ultimately, I became the woman I am because they were in my life. They taught me to be strong, independent, to have a voice, and to not be afraid to take what I needed. And they gave me the gift of laughter and taught me not to take life so seriously.
In December, I was getting nervous, they were too much like characters in a book and they knew most of my secrets. I wanted to put faces to the characters so I started visiting them in person. I needed to use my other senses and hear their voices, to look into their eyes. I realize now that might have been a mistake on my part. Fake internet people you can just turn off, but when they become real it means potential heartbreak. In person, they were even more fabulous then they were online. Their online personas only showed glimpses of their integrity, courage, tenacity, compassion, thoughtfulness, humor, and vulnerability.
I fell in love even more. I was addicted to the forum, spending all of my time there just enjoying the intelligent debate and conversation, hopefully giving back in small ways with advice, respect, honor, and my compassion. But I knew it had to end. I had to let them go.
The reality is that they taught me to be strong, but yet I was growing more and more dependent on them every day. If I was truly going to stand on my own two feet and be the person I wanted to be, to mirror back to them all the qualities I saw in them, I had to let them go. I thought I would do it at the beginning of my sabbatical, but on April 7, I realized that I wasn’t going to be able to leave if I didn’t just cut the cord. So I left.
I miss them every day. I miss talking to them and interacting with them. I will love them always and I know they are cheering me on. I feel them. My imaginary internet friends, thank you for all you have given me.
from the builder and my imaginary internet friends both here and on Facebook. And I want to thank you all for your expertise and patience with explaining things to me. You are the best. Yesterday, I got my finished bike. And again, I got to sit down with this incredible human being that is Bill Davidson. He put my bike on the trainer and I started riding. It fit me perfectly. The only thing that needed adjusting was the handlebars. Bill (yes he fit my bike himself) had me grab for the brakes like I needed to make a very quick stop. Then he adjusted the handlebars so that there was no wasted efficiency of motion for that maneuver.
Life Divided by Zero 