Yesterday I read another sad story about a 12 year old girl who committed suicide after being bullied on social media. My heart broke. Again. This is my bullying story:

Just after I turned seven, my mom remarried and we moved from our two-bedroom townhouse to an affluent suburb. I started 2nd grade with a classroom of children I had never met.

I remember one boy being a playground bully – picking girls up while forcing his friend to lift up their skirts. We ladies learned to wear clothing with legs and those two boys didn’t come back for 3rd grade. And, I recall someone making fun of me when I first came to school with glasses. The teacher overheard, made him apologize, and that was it.

I don’t remember ever being bullied after that.

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Though we didn’t have social media, there were still ample opportunities – and ammunition – for kids to pick on me, especially in my teen years. When my mom and step-dad divorced in 1985, we moved back to a two-bedroom townhouse. My friends lived in enormous homes and drove expensive cars, while I arrived at school in a ’77 Cutlass which would eject the tape cassette and launch it into the back seat if you went over 55mph.

Because of the divorce, I had to live with my older sister for my junior year of high school. I was extremely depressed and scared. In turn, I made a lot of horrendously bad decisions. Note to my daughter: THIS is why you get lectured so much. Because I was a stupid teenager. You’re welcome.

My senior year, I dated a man who was controlling, manipulative, and abusive. My friends didn’t call me dirty names, though. They gently tried to steer me in the right direction. No one made fun of me. They could have turned their backs on me, but no one did.

No one ever said anything about our tiny apartment with no air conditioning. No one ever called me poor because I had to go to work every afternoon after school. No one ever hurt my feelings or made me fell less-than.

I don’t know how to make these sad stories stop, but I know that not every school is full of bullies. My high school was full of the richest kids in town who didn’t want for anything. They weren’t snobs. They were awesome.

Maybe we should share more GOOD stories about the GOOD kids who are there to hold up people like me; a lost, frightened girl who had to grow up too fast. I can honestly say that I wouldn’t have survived those years without that support. I would not have survived.

Let’s make the stories of strength and friendship go viral. Let’s make sure that the kids who do the right thing are celebrated and that the ones who don’t, aren’t. We can’t stop telling the tales of those who were bullied, but we can start sharing more stories about the ones who weren’t.

What do you say? Are you with me?

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What happens when you take Queen Latifah, Sheryl Sandberg, Wendi McClendon-Covey (of Bridesmaids fame), Randi Zuckerberg, Gale Anne-Hurd (as in the writer/producer of Terminator, and producer of AMC’s The Walking Dead), many, many more talented and inspirational speakers, hundreds of brands, and thousands of bloggers?

Why, BlogHer ’13 of course.

Now imagine the logistics of all of that; the food (including vegan and gluten-free options), signage, transportation, set-up, registration, social media, programming, promotion, and every last detail down to a lactation lounge, a fashion show, a shipping station, and transcribed session content – and imagine all of it being managed by a staff of about 15 people. That, folks, is really where I’ve been.

Let’s put it this way, I picked up a copy of USA Today on Thursday and didn’t even get a chance to read this article until Sunday.

oh hi, those are my bosses in USA Today.

U – S – A – Today.

So it’s weird, you know? It’s weird to have the cell phone numbers of those three women, or be a fangirl of all these big name speakers and Food Network stars like Ree Drummond who is actually one of your greatest friends. Just so you know, it’s possible to be inspired by Ree AND pose for a picture with her in which you accidentally move Anissa’s wheelchair with your breast. Yes, that happened. (Thanks for the photo, Cecily.)

Cecily, Ree, Dresden, Katherine, Rachael, Anissa, and me. Awkward.

It’s weird to only see your co-workers a couple of times a year. Or have the opportunity to hang out with your co-worker/BBFF/Bedazzler-Extraordinaire, Melisa and be TOTALLY fine with walking around in the shirt she made you. She, literally, can not help herself. I love her.

totally fine, because it was awesome!

And, it’s odd that I speak on panels with unbelievably powerful women, with great stories and amazing hair.

Seriously, how did I get to here?

It’s strange to have one of Forbes’ Most Powerful Women in the World sitting just feet away when she gives you a great quote like this:

.@sherylsandberg "Next time u are going to call your daughter Bossy, take a deep breath/say she has executive leadership skills" #BlogHer13

— BlogHer Conferences (@BlogHerEvents) July 27, 2013

— BlogHer Conferences (@BlogHerEvents) July 27, 2013

It’s crazy to walk through the Expo Hall at the conference and get a manicure from Kiss USA, grab a drink from Dailey’s Cocktails (or Turning Leaf, or Moskato Life, or Yellow Tail), pet a puppy from ASPCA, check out a generator from Ryobi Tools, swoon over We Montage, and fall so deeply in love with the Shark Sonic Duo that you almost grabbed it and ran.

I got products I love (and will buy again) from some of them, and from Windex, White Cloud, Samsung, Folgers, ULTA Beauty, Walgreens, CLR, Jamba Juice, Orbit Gum, and Budweiser’s STRAW-BER-ITA. As a matter of fact, I want a STRAW-BER-ITA right-NOW-er-ita. I also learned about the good work of companies like Etymotic and Camp Wonder, supported generously by Cetaphil. Social good makes me warm and fuzzy.

I think the brands were better than ever this year and they GOT IT. They understood that blogs and social media are the new front porch/back fence/water-coolers of the world. Trust me, if I like something I’m sure as heck going to tell you so. And, who would’ve thought that 10 years ago? Uh, no one. See? More weirdness.

So, it’s surreal; this enormous gathering of (mostly) women from all over the world who affect change, share stories, and influence people online. It’s the only place I’ve ever been where it isn’t considered rude to pull out your phone in the middle of a conversation and send a tweet. Bloggers are nothing if not multi-taskers. We are often simultaneously posting to Twitter, Facebook, IM, and email. While we’re making dinner. And, picking up after our kids.

In all it’s weirdness, though, BlogHer is the one time of year where everything is familiar. It’s my people. We are writers, educators, brand ambassadors, and a hundred other labels, but above all we are bloggers.

And, I will own that weirdness all day long.

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One of my favorite people on the internet is dying. Like right now. Dawn is in her final stages of a battle with melanoma and all I can think about are her husband and children and, selfishly, that I will never see her face in my Twitter stream again.

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We heard last night that another friend is undergoing chemo, and we added him to the long list of people we know who have fought or are currently fighting this terrible disease. It’s getting old. Really.

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I went to the dentist today. I’m one of those people who loves lying in the dental chair and getting her teeth scraped, but the scrubbing with the thick paste? BLECH. That makes me want to vomit. I have a love/hate thing with the dentist. I would probably love it more if I got laughing gas.

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The dentist said she could tell that I’ve been grinding my teeth again. I’m sure this is a direct result of my weaning off Zoloft. A custom mouth guard would cost me almost $700 out of pocket, so that’s not happening and the thought of upping my meds again to avoid jaw problems makes me sad. Anxiety is a beast.

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I’m crafting a post about how smart my daughter is, but there is a fine line between pride and disbelief at her accomplishments (considering she came into this world as a 2 lb. preemie), and bragging and annoying people. But, wow…am I proud. That post is coming later this week. If I act obnoxious, give me a blog-slap.

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Although my son is almost 11 years old, he’s still just as literal and honest as when he was 5 and told an elderly woman at Target that she needed to buy moisturizer. Lent provided us with ample opportunity for honest conversations and these were a few that I posted on Facebook.

Me: “You need to do some reading.”
My son: “I gave it up for Lent.”

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At church yesterday, my son looked at the wooden plaque labeled, “Hymns” and asked, “Mom, what’s a hymen?”

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Me: “Did you eat a Peep?”
My son: “Yes…actually, I ate five.”

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In addition to the post about my genius-daughter (too much?), later this week there will be a fun (and pretty) giveaway from Kyky’s Treasures! Stay tuned…and if you’ve never had a skin cancer screening, please schedule one. Now.

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Sometimes, when we are just sitting around, my mom will burst into tears and tell me what a good father my kids have. I nod. “I know, Mom. I know.” And, I do.

I think part of the reason she cries is because she had a good relationship with her father and she misses him. He’s been gone since I was a child, but she still talks about him a lot. I think there is also something to be said for the fact that my mom is 78 years old and has known a lot of people who didn’t have close relationships with their dads. My grandparent’s generation wasn’t exactly known for wearing their emotions on their sleeves.

Actually, some members of my generation aren’t known for it either. There is no denying that my husband is a curmudgeon (seriously, he won’t even deny it), but he loves his kids, does all kinds of activities with them that I probably never would, instills in them a sense of responsibility, shares his faith and his dreams with them, and even though he is one of the biggest sports fans I’ve ever known, he doesn’t blink an eye at the fact that our special needs son will never be a star athlete.

Of course, my husband gets all of his parenting skills naturally because he has a great dad. As do I. Our fathers are both funny, kind, generous and loving.

Way back in 1997 I spent an amazing August afternoon dancing with all of these men. I happened to be wearing a wedding dress and at one point or another was twirled around the dance floor by my brand-new husband, my dad, and my father-in-law.

The other night my daughter’s dance club threw an event for the parents. It was held in the same hall where my husband and I had our wedding reception, and when my groom and our daughter took to the dance floor – the same dance floor where I had danced with my dad – I was the one doing the crying.

I have been so lucky to have these dads in my life and I wish the same thing for my girl.

So far, so good.

Speaking of dads, I’ll be on a panel at the Dad 2.0 Summit in Houston this weekend where some of the best parents in social media will be gathering to declare, “Parenting isn’t just for moms, and neither is blogging!” I just made that quote up, but I’m pretty sure they’ll want to to put it on a bumper sticker.

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