I think it’s time I confront this now.
I’ve been blogging since 2005. No, really, I have been. I lost a lot of content during some interesting times in my life and this blog only has what I’ve written since 2008. I’m okay with it. Losing my beloved blog content was heartbreaking for me but, in a weird way, it released me.
Someone asked me recently what “kind” of blogger I am? My answer? Sporadic. LOL. But, in truth, I’m not a “mommy blogger” per se, as this blog isn’t devoted to my parenting life. It definitely reflects upon it, and has journalled my parenting journey, but it’s not strictly about that role I have. I’ve also made a few choices in that regard, and many of my parenting reflections now live here…and in a few other places.
I’ve journalled my heartaches, my losses and my sadness. I’ve journalled my joys, my successes and my sometimes strange life. I’ve not even come close to revealing a lot of what’s happened over the years, but the big events are there, if you look for them.
That said, I am – by my nature – a very private person. I do not share direct information about myself easily. In fact, it’s something that Sheena and I have fought over, giggled over and worried over for years. I’m not an easy sharer but, if you’ve been reading me for a while, you’ll know that my blog has regularly been a reflective channel for me. I don’t dictate my diary but I do reflect upon things, and attempt to make sense of things in this way.
That led someone else to ask me “well then, who do you write this blog for?”. Seriously? For me. For my kid. Quite often, I find, it’s the only way I can feel like I am talking to my parents. All my life, my parents and I wrote each other letters, notes and emails. I cannot do that anymore, so I blog those thoughts. In my head, when I write here, I’m writing generally to someone close to me. I’m not all that keen on naming people, either, because I often reveal my truest feelings on something in their lives, by writing to them here.
“So, you blog letters?”. Um, yes and no. Sometimes they’re letters to myself.
Then I kinda come down to this point…I write because I want to. I write because sometimes it’s cheaper than therapy and better than crying down the phone about something that won’t matter in a week’s time. Sometimes I chronicle things and sometimes I just need to elucidate my emotions for myself, and perhaps other people too. I guess, in a way, you could say…I write about things that affect my life. In that respect too, this blog is my gratitude journal. It lets me be thankful for the abundance of love in my life, and for all the experiences that led me here.
Writing my way through grief is the only way I’ve been able to cope with it. It’s helped me assimilate this notion into my life, and not be felled by it. One would think that might make me emo. I’m not really, anymore. I used to be, but those years are the fuel that guides my gratitude. Make sense?
I’ve also stopped blogging quite a few times. There have been spaces in my life I won’t go to at all. There are some things I’ll never discuss or reveal.
For that reason, I’ve got no issue about writing reviews on products I use or am fond of. So I do. If I’ve used something/bought something/been given something to try out, I’ll write about it. It’s the same process of referring a friend to a service provider/product etc, to me. If my mate asks me “hey, which washing powder do you use?”, I’d tell them. In the same way, if I’m inspired to write something about a product that makes me smile, I will.
And, really, if you don’t like it, I am certain there are a billion other blogs for you to enjoy. I won’t be offended.
In summary, I suppose, I blog my navel-gazing. I try to make sense of my life by capturing it within words and linespaces. Whether anyone reads it or not is not of consequence to me, as the people who need to or want to, do already.
“I write what I like – Steve Biko”.