I’m great at developing relationships in my life. Most of them are meaningful, involved, and require a lot of time and effort. Granted, they aren’t all with actual human beings, but that’s somewhat beside the point.

Take Cat, for example. We have a complex and dynamic bond, mostly consisting of her making her needs known and me rushing to accommodate them. She’s the only creature on Earth I feel comfortable relating to in an entirely servile way - I will drop anything, at any time, to get her a dried turkey treat or change the odor filter in her litter box, and never once expect her to return the favor. We have conversations, back and forth, about all manner of things - that whole language thing is absent, but since when is language necessary for communication?

Sure, I’ve read all the studies about people who anthropomorphize animals, how these sad, deluded folks are “socially stunted” and “tend towards loneliness” and “therefore seek to humanize pets to fill their own inner void.” Rubbish. Cat needs me, and I need her, and (in my head, anyway) we have hours of equable and deeply mutual repartee. She says “mew,” and of course I know she means: “Honestly, Melissa, the fact that Tom didn’t respond to your e-mail about that story idea means absolutely nothing about its relevance or potential value, or your abilities as a writer.”

Then there’s my relationship with this blog. It’s mine - I created it, I control it, I am Master of its Universe (I love telling that to my students: “You are God of your blog.” It sounds so wonderfully epic). Things were great at first in the relationship. We got along so well, with me pouring my guts into its warm Wordpress embrace, while it was always ready to listen, show endless patience for my obsessive editing, and then share what I’d told it with anyone else who wanted to hear. We were so happy together, in the mutual rhythm of being needed by someone(thing).

And then, somewhere along the line, things got rocky. “You’re not doing me justice” it started squawking into the back of my head while I was in the middle of 6 other things, all of which seemed more important than blogging. “You don’t pay enough attention to me any more, and when you are paying attention it’s like you’re not even there. You don’t give me the time and energy I deserve. I am totally and wholly not loved enough in this relationship.”

Upon which it started — the guilt, raw and piercing, oozing its way into my stomach, that perpetual feeling of wrongness and shame. I had failed something that relied on me. I had created something, built it up, and then let it down.

Finally, I had to admit my creation had the the upper hand. It was winning every battle - I was a pool of mush in the face of its wrath. So I did what I always do when I’m being dominated by someone(thing) - I walked away. “You can’t guilt trip me into writing!” I snorted indignantly. “How dare you make me feel bad! I am my own person! You need me far more than I need you - so piss off!”

So one month went by with barely a post, then two. I wouldn’t admit it, but I felt awful. Of course I pushed the sorrow and pining to the back, ignoring that gnawing feeling that I had shot myself in the foot out of a fit of pride. I kept busy, always with plenty of things to do. Who has time to raise the white flag and make up when they’re so overscheduled?

Then, a few days ago, I ran into an old friend outside my favorite bakery.

“What has become of your blog?” she wailed. “Why have you forsaken it?” (Ok, she didn’t exactly say the “forsaken” part, it was more like “What the Hell is up with this whole not blogging thing? Have you totally quit?” - you get the drift.)

In a flash, it came back - all the joy at creating something that was my own, the satisfaction at receiving so many things: self expression, a means of communication, a chance to write whatever the Hell I want and not be told it’s too “strident” or doesn’t fit the allotted word count. And I’d thrown it all away, simply out of pique. The bottom line: only one of us was really hurt by my ending the relationship, and it sure wasn’t Wordpress.

So here it is, my official reconciliation with my blog. I’m sorry for blaming you, and criticizing you, and making you the fall guy for all my so-called problems. I’ve been with you for 3 years now, and they’ve been some of the most rewarding of my life. I can’t promise I’ll devote hours to you every day, but when I do see you, I vow to make it worth both our while.

Now all that’s left is figuring out how to deal with actual people.