August 26, 2011
I don’t sleep much anymore. When I’m not waking up with contractions or waking up because my bladder is being used as a trampoline, I’m just hanging out in bed, staring at the wall and praying sleep will come. This is my body preparing for the huge sleep deficit I’ll soon be dealing with on a regular basis. I’m such a grumpy person when I don’t get enough rest; and I’m older this time around with more responsibility (two kids to get off to school each morning, starting next week!!!) so I can only imagine the fun my entire family is in for in the coming weeks and months.
One would think, with all this non-sleeping time, that I’d have plenty of time and desire to write here. But that hasn’t been the case.
I was thinking about why it’s been so difficult for me to write here lately and there are a couple reasons that I came up with that seem to make sense, besides that crazy foot fetish person creeping me out.
First, Facebook has made a pre-meditated attempt to kill my blog. Why write an entire post when one can take a picture with a phone, upload and leave a little comment and be done with it? Why say in paragraphs what can be said and shown in only a sentence and broadcasted to all the other Facebook addicts? It’s just a whole lot easier. And once it already lives on Facebook, then what’s the point of saying it here, in many more words when people are as strapped for time as I am? I realize this isn’t the case with everyone. I had a visit with a friend the other day who asked me what was up with me not writing so much anymore. I couldn’t really explain it all; but there’s more to it than just Facebook killing it.
When everyone, and your mother, reads your blog, it can be stifling and writer’s block inducing. If you scroll back through posts from years ago, you’ll find that some of my best were rants about annoying or stupid people. I’m good at those rants; but when everyone you know is reading your blog, it’s kind of difficult to write about anything controversial or potentially upsetting to another person. People who know you talk, misconstrue things and make trouble. It’s a fact of life. I’m always jealous of those bloggers who do such a great job self-promoting. I waver somewhere between the wanting to be completely anonymous and wanting to be a rock star blogger. I liked the anonymity that writing a blog used to give me. I will never forget the day that I found out that some of my karate friends had found my blog and were, GASP, reading it!!!! I came home from the dojo and instantly started analyzing every post I had ever written. Did I write anything that someone could find offensive or inappropriate? To this day, I still feel myself blushing and getting paranoid when someone new tells me they’ve been reading my blog. How do you write about that monster of a child who enters your own child’s life only to make it hell when her mother reads your blog? (You’re all wondering if I’m talking about you now, aren’t you? See, next time I see you, it’s going to be awkward.)
In one respect, I’m completely flattered that my friends, neighbors and family members read my blog. I want more readers. I want more subscribers. I’d like to turn my blog into a conglomerate “Pioneer Woman” style. But then, I don’t write about food and the ranch. I write about life in general and sometimes I can be a bit snarky. And don’t even try to lie about it; that’s why most of you like me anyway!
A couple months ago, I went through a ton of drama in my life. Some of it is still on-going. Suffice it to say that there are a couple people who hate my guts because of it; and they happen to be the same people who have been duped by the true culprits in the whole situation. I wanted to write about it and scream out the truth to everyone about what truly happened. I’m a “shoots straight from the hip” kind of person, but I agreed to a certain confidentiality (that others seemed to forget about instantly) and have kept my mouth shut. It made my life unpleasant. To write about it would have been a great relief to me. Perhaps that’s part of the reason why I stopped writing, because it’s like trying to ignore the elephant in the room. When you know there’s one thing you can’t write about, somehow it’s the only thing you do want to write about. Therefore, you write nothing.
Since then, I’ve done a good job of eliminating unnecessary stress from my life (people too); but let’s be honest. . . when the karate blogger stops attending karate classes and gets pregnant, she’s really just a Mommy blogger and that is one blogging area that is beyond saturated.
I’m going to try to get back to writing more. Since I haven’t been able to kick things or people, I clearly need some kind of release and a place to express myself. Perhaps I should worry less about what other people think about what I say and just put it all out there. Regardless of what I decide to write about, the truth is that in less than six weeks, I’m be giving birth, and clearly, given that you hung on my every word during my three knee surgeries and tales of constipation, you’re all going to want the gruesome details of that right?
I mean clearly, you’d be crazy not to. . .