|I Googled "cat refusing to get on plane" images......I'm at a loss.|
See I’m starting to struggle with writing on this here blog. I started because my therapist, Dr. Curmudgeon, encouraged my writing as not only a form of therapy but also as a way to get to know my strengths. I’m a natural story teller. I know this because my Mom is one too. When I was young I used to think that she was the funniest most entertaining person in the room because she would literally hold court with stories. Her audience was engaged and laughing and their rapt attention begged for more. And she gave more. Now I won’t entertain the idea that her stories where factual. I will say that they have their elements of truth. And I am positive that she believes that they are the God’s honest truth. But where they lacked accuracy they made up for in punch lines.
I know that I got this talent from her. Its one of the first things I happily acknowledge as an adult that “I am like my mother.” But with less creative license. So I had made this my goal to blog frequently and really push myself in telling stories. Lately it has become hard on me, in two different ways…..
1. Its hard to put your personal life out there to share with the world. You open up parts of your life, even as limited as I have. I’ve shared aspects of my husband, my son, our family, some very personal matters. Probably way more information than an average person wants to know about a complete stranger. So here I am with my heart on my sleeve and a microscope to my whooha and I’m serving up my loved ones on Pampered Chef platters…but to who?
2. This blog is not a substitute for me. I recently shared with various family and friends that I have a blog and a few I’ve pushed/begged to read. And some have read a post or two. Some have peeked. And some have been loyally reading. But I don’t know what they have read. I don’t know if I’ve offended anyone. I don’t know if I’ve touched anyone with my words. Its like the fact that I try and stay anonymous here means that they too must stay anonymous. I don't get it.
So where do I go from here? Do I say damn the torpedoes and full steam ahead? Keep writing about my personal life and just accept that this is what happens when people start getting real? (The Real World – Phoenix! Sorry for The Real World reference.)
I know I want to entertain with my writing. I want to continue to grow as a writer. I want to interact with people. Also, I want to share my experiences of fertility. I want to give solace to someone out there who is in the same boat as me and to know that their big payoff is coming. But I don’t want the people who are supposed to support me and pick me up when I am down and having a hard time to only know about it because they read my blog but then not even talk to me about it. I get this imagine of me in a boat in the middle of a deserted lake yelling out and I see my people on the shore line and no one is acknowledging me. I'm sure Dr. Curmudgeon would have a lot to say about that!
So I could continue to write about mundane things, like the drunk woman a work or share web sites that I’ve found. But then by doing that this blog becomes more work than fun. So I’m backing away from the blog for a bit. I don’t know how long. Maybe a day a week or forever.
Its not sad I guess, because no one was ACTIVELY reading this anyways.