The blog is my mother, my healing place, this online world my family, how curious, I will never quite get used to it even as I accept it and see it is true. I have experienced much fear and anger in my life, both nearly destroyed me more than once, and both teamed up together to try and finish the job. I know one can never completely transform oneself, only learn how to deal with the self. The fear and the anger have greatly receded in my life, but anyone who has brushed up against mental illness fears on some level that it will rear up again. It’s shadows and footprints are always there, waiting for the right push.

I lost my temper today, was angry and upset, almost to the point of rudeness, then ashamed and frightened of my own behavior. Anger frightens me, in myself, in others, in the world beyond. I know what it can do, to others, to me.

I decided when I began my blog to be open about my life, Maria agreed to share this experience with me as well, it is my own choice, I don’t apologize for it or regret it. Yet there is a price for it. I am, although people are surprised to hear it, an intensely private person. For most of my life, sharing any of my life with strangers would have been inconceivable. In this new world, it is my work. I have come a long and good way to  share my life on the blog and open my home to hundreds of people who are gracious enough to come and see it. But the Open House it in itself a boundary – noon to 4 p.m. – and there are people who don’t understand or accept boundaries.

Since the Open House, there has been an almost daily occurrence of unexpected and uninvited visitors to the farm, one man coming to show me a photo of his dogs, a woman coming to present us with a ceramic donkey, a man who pulled into the driveway and honked while I was writing. His wife, he said, wanted to meet me, she is a fan, he knew I wouldn’t mind. Oddly, my neighbors never do this, up her people seem to get privacy. Today, as I was stacking firewood and injecting myself with insulin behind the farmhouse, an SUV pulled into the driveway (the second visitor of the day) and a woman and her husband got out of the car. I was startled to see them. “We have some friends in the car, they are fans of your work, they want to meet you.”

I try very hard to be gracious – most people are well meaning – but I did not feel gracious. I was angry. What were they thinking, I thought to drive into my driveway on a Sunday afternoon. I’m sure they are nice people, I’m sure they didn’t give it a thought, I’m sure they had good reasons. I’m just being honest about how I felt, and I know this is an old and deep thing to me, people coming into my space without permission is a very big issue for me, and very deep, I could see this by the intensity of what I felt.

“This is not a good time,” I said, “I’m working now.” They came forward and introduced themselves and repeated that their friends in the car were fans of my work, and I repeated that I was working and walked into the house. I wasn’t rude, but I was visibly annoyed, not in the least bit friendly,  and then I came to my office and did some work. I felt awful about it, I wished I had talked to these fans, offered to sign a book, explained in greater detail that it wasn’t a good time. I felt badly that they would feel I was arrogant and remote – people are quick to conclude that if you are well known, many look for it.

I usually try and be friendly, but I realized that all this openness had taken a toll. I was tired of people thinking our life was an Open House, Maria had to deal with four visitors the other afternoon while I was away, she begged one woman not to drop by again, the woman was just shocked.  People not only visit the Open House, which is a wonderful thing, but there is a lot of subsequent discussion about my life, Maria, the farm, the animals afterwards – on blogs, Facebook, message boards. In the days after the Open  House, I saw photos of me everywhere. Honesty, this is a good thing. The photos and comments were loving and generous, and they helped me in ways that are perhaps not apparent to others. But still, it makes me uneasy sometimes.

Openness is a centerpiece of my life, I won’t withdraw or run from it, but I see I have a great sensitivity about uninvited people coming into my home, wanting to shake my hand, meet the dogs and Simon. I will continue to insist on boundaries around my home, but I will also recognize that there is still a lot of trauma bubbling around inside of me, and I will work to ease it or perhaps make it go away. When I boot people off my property, I don’t want it to be in anger.

I see it was a testing time. All summer people coming through this area on vacation – to Lake George, Boston,  Canada, Vermont, the Adirondacks, Southern New England – e-mailed, messaged or just stopped by because they are going past the farmhouse. Just a few minutes, they said, just to say hello. What kind of monster would say not to this? This bothers me, it feels invasive, it seems to trigger that reflex that people who know abuse have when they feel invaded or violated.  We receive visitors all the time, I never mind if I know they are coming, if they just ask.

The unwanted intrusions make me uncomfortable, my anger makes me even more uncomfortable, it was very upsetting to me. So I went into the woods for a long walk with Maria and the dogs and I took some photos that somehow seemed to capture the experience of emotion, anger, and then healing and renewal. You were just being honest, she said, it was just how you feel. We both agreed there was no reason to be angry, just to be clear.  The anger receded, melted away, I found myself again out there. Photography just is the balm of my soul.  Probably good that I am going to California for a few days on Tuesday, I will return refreshed and grounded. I hate being angry, but I know it is a human emotion, it does not mean a return to the past, does not mean my old illnesses will bubble up. I am not a saint, I will never be a saint, I will always be going nose to nose with the ghosts of my past, I will never give up on facing them. And I can stop beating myself up.

I will practice this. When the next person comes into the driveway uninvited, and there will be many more, I hope I will politely explain that this is a private home and a workspace and we just can’t accommodate the many good people who think we are open all the time. And I will try and see it from their eyes, it is, in many ways, a great compliment to my work. Perhaps I can learn to take it that way. I’m putting up a photo album of the walk on Facebook. I translated the feeling into photographs, a good place to put them.