I have always been a writer. I have often been a blogger.
Blogging helps me process my thoughts and feelings and understand myself and my relationships better. Blogging is all about community–it starts a conversation and gives perspective that my journal can’t, and in the process, I have built some fabulous relationships.
Friendships that started through blog comments and emails have turned into talk-on-the-phone, visit-one-another and take-vacations-together friendships. In one highlight of my blogging career, I was recognized at Disney World by a blog reader. Hilariously, very few of my actual, “in real life” friends knew about my blog or had the address–it was something that I did for myself and kept private (although my mom and brother-in-law were frequent commenters—holla, “J” and “momwiththe411!”)
About six months ago, I stopped blogging. I had gotten busy at work, was feeling a little exposed when I posted, was running around town trying to finalize adoption paperwork, and wasn’t feeling inspired anymore.
My blogging urge is back.
One could argue that the week that you have a child is a bad week to start a new blog. I’m busier than ever. I’m riding a wave of sleep deprivation that makes me dumber than rocks (and makes me use uncreative metaphors like “dumber than rocks.” Looks like my usual witty writing voice may be on hiatus, folks.) The crowning achievements of my day yesterday were getting my child to burp and getting through my loads of laundry–not exactly scintillating writing material.
But when I blog, I’m more intentional about how I live. And in this new stage of my life as a mom–which still feels weird to type and weirder to claim!–I want to be intentional.
I want my little Z to have a mom who is fully plugged in to life and to the One who has given her life. And so I think…I think…I may blog again. And this time, I may even share my thoughts with people I ACTUALLY know.