I started my blog as an online journal of sorts. A way to tell stories about my life so that my grandchildren would more fully know me one day. I wanted to put the blog into a book for them so that they could hold it in their hands and read things that I had forgotten to tell them through the years. The little trivial things that make up a life. That make a life real.
Now, I find that I blog because I have to. I have to write. I’ve always wanted to write. I’ve always enjoyed writing. I tried to take a creative writing class in college one time. I failed miserably. I could not bring myself to open up and write about the painful things I had been through at that point in my life and I hadn’t lived long enough to have many interesting or joyful experiences to share. I had been through a lot of crap in my youth. So, I dropped out of the class.
Later, I joined a large quilt guild and after a while, I volunteered to be on the board in the community service vice president position. As a board member, I had to write a monthly column for the guild newsletter. I found that I was good at it. I got a lot of compliments for my writing of it too. Of all of my duties as a board member, I found that I enjoyed the writing the most. Even more than helping the children that the guild helped.
Now, I’m not that great at flowery words or even amazingly descriptive words that can put you in the moment and make you say “ahhhh”, but I can write and make you feel like I’m there talking to you. I guess that’s my “style”. That’s what I do. I wish, at times, that I was a more creative writer. I wish I could write fiction. (Then again, maybe I can. I’ve never really tried.) Wouldn’t be wonderful to be one of those few people in the world who sits down one day and writes a novel? Just has to write it and then sends it off and it is purchased right then and there? And – it – is – a – hit? What a dream, fantasy!
If you blog, why do you do it? I’m curious.
I know that I can’t stop. One day, you all will know every secret my heart and soul has — because I feel them bursting at the seams needing to see the light of day. I feel the truth of ME needing to come all the way out so that if there is anyone out there who has been through the same things I’ve been through and is still suffering from it — maybe I can help them just by telling them that I am here and I’ve been through it first and survived. So, if you log on one day and I’m talking about heavy stuff, remember that is why. I’m not trying to embarrass anyone — especially not my family. I’m not trying to hurt anyone — again, especially not in my family. But I am feeling more and more the need to own what is in my past, all of it. The things that have happened to me, the things I have done because of what has happened to me. The things that have led me to be who I am. Because when you get right down to it, every single day of what happens to you and that you live — shapes you. I don’t want to leave this world without my grandchildren knowing who I am. Remember this though. I am happy and I am enough. No matter how heavy I am. No matter how much grey is in my hair or how many smile lines I have. I love and I am loved. That is all I need.