The Day the Blog Died: How Losing My Blog Added Meaning To My Life

I lost my blog this morning. And then I lost my mind.

It all started when I decided to delete one of my two Google accounts. I didn't recall setting up the second one and never used it. So, I click-click-clicked and deleted it, confident that my other account was safe and sound. But when I went to update my One Year of Beauty blog (www.oneyearofbeauty.com), just as I've done most days for nearly three years, all that appeared was the scariest screen I've ever seen. It simply said: THIS BLOG HAS BEEN REMOVED.

My poor six-year-old, quietly eating breakfast at the kitchen table, watched in horror as his mommy suddenly went berserk. I had enough self-control to avoid verbally uttering all my favorite expletives, but he still witnessed quite a show. For quite some time, I think, I was rocking back and forth in my chair with my hands on my head, shouting "NOOOOOOOO!" to the techno-heavens (or wherever blogs go when they die).

"You don't have to act that way," he assured me.

"Yes, I do," I whined back. "I lost my blog!" Recounting the episode, it sounds rather ridiculous even to me. But my temper tantrum was a knee-jerk reaction to feeling like the carpet had been swept out from under me, along with the floor beneath it. The blog is a big deal to me. I left a comfortable corporate gig two years ago to build a business based on the blog. I have a book deal based on the blog. I write and speak and Tweet about the blog. And suddenly, the blog was all gone.

What I know now is that Google actually owns Blogger, the service that houses my blog. My deletion of one Google account triggered a chain reaction that ended with my blog in the cyber trash. Panicked and close to tears, I searched the web for solutions. Submitting my "issue" in a dizzying maze of Help Center pages left me more confused. Discussion boards filled with blogging horror stories did little to lift my spirits. And then an emailed form letter arrived, thanking me for my feedback and informing me that my account could not be verified and my blog would not be reinstated.

I felt awful. Not just because my blog was gone, but because my whole body was out of sorts. The anxiety was making me jittery and nauseous, and my heart felt permanently lodged in my throat. I was so far from being centered that I barely recognized myself. So, I swallowed hard and opted to take a dose of my own medicine. Slow down, I told myself, and notice the beauty around you.

I took a deep breath as I watched my sweet six-year-old quietly eating at the breakfast table. I listened to my precious one-year-old stirring in his crib. The birds singing sweetly in our backyard. And then I spent a minute studying the flowers on our coffee table. The center of each Gerber daisy was bursting with life, with the boldest colors and most exquisite details. What a miracle, I thought. And that’s when it hit me: these little miracles in my midst were proof that anything is possible. Magic only happens to those who believe in it.

I felt myself relax as I let go of the fear and frustration, choosing instead to trust that all would be okay. Either the blog would somehow return or I would piece together as much as I could to bring it back to life. I returned to the Help Center feedback forms and filled them out again, much more calm and collected than the first time. I spent the next several hours digging up the documentation needed to convince the powers that be to find and return my blog. Before I hit the “submit” button, I closed my eyes and set my intention for an effortless retrieval of all the contact, perfectly intact. I envisioned it happening and felt a wave of joy and elation wash over me. This felt so much better than the panic that had hijacked me earlier.

When an email arrived 20 minutes later stating that my blog would, indeed, be reinstated, I lost my mind again – but in the best way possible. I was hootin’ and hollerin’, dancing in the kitchen, praising God and the great big universe for conspiring in my favor. My six year old laughed and joined in the happy dance.

When I was in a state of panic over my missing blog, I was getting nowhere fast. But when I focused, visualized and believed in the possibility of an easy solution, everything worked out beautifully.