I love blogging. Seriously. I love that so many wonderful women (and men) can put their voices out there and speak from their hearts. Truth, honesty, real, raw emotions. I love that I can follow like minded souls, and learn and grow from their experiences. It’s just one of the many reasons why I do this whole writing thing. I want to inspire someone, anyone, the way I am inspired by so many others.
Reading a post from one of my favorite bloggers this week, I found myself holding my breath as I took in her words. In my own little moment of solace, sitting on the living room couch and squinting at my iPhone screen as my oldest little monkey did his best at “quiet time” not more than four feet from me, I found an answer I didn’t know I had been looking for.
But before I go into that… I need to explain a little bit.
See, you may have noticed my writing has been sort of, well, BORING, over the last year. Resolutions, goals, recipes, yada yada yada.. no really good stuff. And my quantity is lacking too. You see, one of the many reasons I don’t blog as often as I used to is because of privacy issues. I used to post photos of my kids and family, and I used to write about anything and everything I thought. Then I started getting comments from others, from family, from friends. And I started wondering if I was doing the right thing by exposing my kids photos and our family experiences to the world. I stopped sharing so much of the personal stuff. I started a personal, password protected blog as a scrapbook for my boys that the world cannot see. And my visible blog kinda turned to, well, mush.
Back to the rest of my story.
I put my phone down, and with a familiar urge that many a writer can understand, I grabbed my journal and pen to figure out what the heck was going through my head. Emotions trying to burst through, uninterpreted and raw, I couldn’t figure out what was hitting me so hard. So I put it all down, and grabbed for my phone again to read those words one more time. And that did it.
In SO many areas of my life right now, I am absolutely failing to trust myself, and I am completely failing to trust others. I could probably write a hundred pages tonight about how and why I am not good at trusting strangers, friends, doctors, the whole freaking universe, God, and even many of the people who are the very closest in my life. I need to let go of control, and have a little faith that I am on the right path.
So. I don’t want to sit down at my computer every night and write just recipes. Yes, I want to share them, when I have good ones. And I want to share our craft projects and our home preschool. But I also want to share the real stuff. The interesting stuff. The stuff that naturally flows from my mind to the page. The stuff that I’m a little nervous to share. You see, I realized that my favorite blogs are the ones where the authors share the most about their lives – their thoughts and emotions, their family moments, photos that capture those things. I feel like I know them. If I’m ever going to do anything with my writing, I need to be able to be real, and not afraid to trust this world.
***special thanks to my awesome brother for taking these photos of Lucas and I on Thanksgiving morning***