Considering everything I expressed in my last post, I’ve been thinking quite a bit over the last few months about my feelings about writing, my life, writing about my life, and this blog. I’ve tried to get to some kind of core truth or core feeling about this.
The thing is, it’s pretty hard (and pointless) to be a blogger who claims to write about her life (and enjoys it, too) and then not actually do it. Writing as I do here is about a few key things for me. First, it’s a way of remembering things as they were when they happened.My memory is full of holes, and I want the stories recorded when they happened so that I can revisit them whenever I want. Second, it’s how I process things and either gain insight or get over them, or whatever it is I need to do. While I do regular old journaling, that has an entirely different tone and perspective and serves other purposes in my life. Third, I wanted the task and challenge of writing regularly, believing that this kind of practice would make me a better writer. This last reason is entirely subjective, I guess, but I believe it to be true.
So I’ve been reminding myself of these things, and trying to figure out how I feel about these things in light of all that’s happened in my life, and somewhere in this process, I realized something: I enjoy sharing my life, and I once again want to share.
While my feelings about blogging about my life have changed over the last couple of years – and I suppose my feelings have matched my overall mood about my life – and I don’t expect to write here like I used to, I’ve finally figured out why I’ve swung back to wanting to get more personal again: because I need to. And frankly, because I think others need it, too.
Well, wait. I don’t think others need me or this blog, nor do I think this blog is like a great contribution to humanity, but I think I have something to offer others in situations similar to my own.
See, part of my problem this last year has been how alone I feel in my life situation, and how a whole lot of negative feelings have messed with my head.This new life of mine, for all the wonderfulness it contains, sometimes makes me feel like it’s nothing but landmines all around me.
I have to think there are plenty other people out there in a similar situation, even though I’ve yet to encounter a single one.
I’m a bit sick with the feelings of isolation and negativity. I’m ultimately way too anxious a person for this, and I have to break through it or risk a serious, permanent, depressing decline. And in really confronting some of this stuff lately, it occurred to me that if I feel this way, it’s possible that others in similar situations feel this way, too, and apparently no one is writing and sharing about it, so hey, why not me? Without presuming too much, perhaps it will help another like I hope it helps me.
So, it’s time to write about this, time to find a new comfort zone and share in a meaningful way and hope that something good comes of it. For myself, and maybe for others.
(I’d say, “for humanity!!” too, but I don’t want to push it.)