Is it April, really? I mean, I had a new year’s resolution to blog more often and you’re telling me it’s been 3 1/2 months since my last post? Wha?
I have pondered my blog-dom and wondered what would possibly keep me from the beloved annals of whereverthere (I have always wanted to use that word in a sentence.)
Lost my limbs in a tragic tubing accident and have postponed blogging until I become proficient at nose-typing? uhh…nope.
Though I stammered excuses to the maybe 2 people who asked why I wasn’t blogging, I didn’t have a good answer. Then, I finally figured it out…I lost my voice.
This may not be my most adventurous of posts, but I imagine other people out there have had this happen so I decided to explore it.
Have you ever stopped doing something because you knew you weren’t the best at it? Because you thought it didn’t matter to anyone? Because so many other people did it that you figured you wouldn’t be missed or even noticed? Have you ever dismissed your thoughts as tiny and unoriginal? Have you ever thought your life was so small and ordinary that no one would ever want to read about it? Or hear about it? Or own your action figure? Okay, getting off track.
I was literally talked out of blogging by a little voice inside my head. I cringe to think of all the other projects/paths/accomplishments that voice has persuaded me to abandon.
I serve in the young women’s organization in my area (my favorite place to serve!) and get to know the youth pretty well. They call me spider legs. Compliment? We spend a lot of time trying to instill in the girls a sense of their worth and divine nature. We invest much thought and prayer trying to figure out how to prepare them for their dazzling futures. Sometimes, as a youth leader, I feel so focused on their potential, their possibilities, that I end up feeling like the discounted loaf of wonder bread…a little past my date.
I don’t think it is unusual to feel incredibly ordinary, uncommonly common. To feel a little passed by, like you could have done more or been more. I wonder if this feeling is an everyone thing or a stay at home mom thing. Or a me thing.
I stopped blogging because everything I started to write screamed at me that it had been done before and been said better by someone else. Probably a lot of someone elses. I told myself that it was arrogant to think any of my little misadventures deserved the time it takes to be read, let alone the time it takes to write. I told myself I had too many other things to do that were more practical. I kept telling myself it didn’t matter anyway.
But guess what? It did matter…to me! I would never say this out loud, but I love to write! Even just writing those words makes me nervous because I can feel expectations hanging in the air. But there it is. I love to write. It makes me feel good. It helps me process things. It commemorates moments, moments that may not be earth shattering but that nonetheless make up my life.
How can I tell the youth in my ‘hood how valuable and infinitely worthy they are if I give up on myself so easily! I once cynically said that all I did was encourage young women to grow up to be women to encourage young women. I hate it when that little voice leaks out of my own mouth as sarcasm. What an awesome thing to grow up, to survive the perilous gauntlet of adolescence and be able to share some survival tips! What I have to realize is that it doesn’t mean my journey ended. Quite the opposite! I read back over my old blog posts and realized how much learning I did in JUST ONE YEAR! How much more do I get to do in the future? Writing helped me shove that little voice. And amazingly, for all the CS Lewis, Mother Theresa and Parade Magazine I read, it was MY writing that did it!
I often get lost in other people’s projects. This is not a complaint. I love that I have an interesting resume made up of other people’s visions. I get to play a part in their adventures. And then there are my projects, built to help shape and strengthen my family. Little undertakings, like, you know A BARNYARD!! And our whole food lifestyle. And my family itself! I am passionate about these, it is true.
But blogging…see that is just for me. I wish I could say I had an epic novel on the horizon (congrats to Charity, by the way, on the upcoming release of her first book!!!) I wish I wrote a column in a credible publication of some kind. But every time I hit “publish” on a blog post, I get a tingle of accomplishment. I wrote SOMETHING. Isn’t that what writer’s do?
So brace yourself, little voice; my intense red-headed mommy voice is much louder than you, just ask my kids. I am telling you to shut it. I don’t have to be the best or the most original. I don’t have to rock the blogosphere. I just gotta be me. Ahhh…at last something I am the best at!